


Chandler Bing’s Guide to Romance (The Best Friend Edition)

by sodium_amytal



Category: Friends
Genre: (I'm not kidding), Canon Divergent, Chandler has issues, Daddy Issues, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Humor, I hope you like smut with a side order of fluff, Internalized Homophobia, Just a pinch of angst, Lots of Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, Mondler brotp, Pining, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, and ridiculous amounts of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:24:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 81,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodium_amytal/pseuds/sodium_amytal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Chandler is awkward and hopeless and desperately in love with Joey. But it’s not like he’ll actually admit it...even when they start dating.</p><p>Set after 1x10 and runs through the middle of season 2. Canon events and dialogue are weaved in throughout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One With the Handjobs

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not kidding about the smut warnings. Seriously, just look at the title for the first chapter. Could I be any more up-front?

**Chapter 1: The One With the Handjobs**

Chandler and Joey end up stumbling back to their apartment around two in the morning after the party has died a slow, painful death. Two a.m. is practically early on New Year’s Eve...or technically New Year’s Day. This is actually kind of pathetic; Chandler’s not even that tired, but after a miserable shit-show of an evening things just sort of fizzle out.  

            Also, he might be a little bit drunk. Okay, stupidly drunk. But he’s not going to feel too bad about that, because Joey’s drunk too—he has to be, because it’s the only explanation for why he would ever kiss Chandler.

            The taste of it lingers in the back of Chandler’s throat like the warm tingle of whiskey. He’s tried to wash it down, flush it out, but the foreign heat won’t leave his lips.

            Joey’s sliding out of his jacket like he has no idea that Chandler’s thinking about kissing him again. Of course he has no idea; these aren’t the kind of thoughts Chandler just blurts out loud because he likes to hear himself talk. So instead he blurts out something else, because Chandler is nothing if not skilled at making things humiliating and awkward:  “Why did you kiss me?”

            Joey lifts an eyebrow. “‘Cause you wouldn’t stop whining about gettin’ kissed at midnight.” He sort of shrugs, sees that Chandler’s waiting for him to elaborate. “Did you see any other volunteers?”

            Chandler can’t help but feel offended that he was kissed not only under the influence of alcohol, but also as an act of charity. With minimal swaying, he sulks to the kitchen counter and plops down onto a barstool. The carpet looks like it’s moving.

            “Hey, don’t worry about it,” Joey says, clapping a hand on Chandler’s shoulder. “This doesn’t mean you’re gonna have bad luck datin’ for the rest of the year.”

            “That’s what you got from that?” Chandler just stares at him. Joey’s pretty dense, but... _really_? It feels like the inappropriate thoughts swirling in Chandler’s head have formed some sort of radioactive barrier around him that’s visible from space.

            Joey narrows his eyes in that way of his when he’s thinking really hard. “Wait, did it make you uncomfortable or somethin’?”

            “No!” Chandler yells out a little too quickly. “No, no, the kiss was fine.” He slides off of the barstool and finds his legs without too much levering. He takes a couple of steps toward Joey, who’s watching him with confused interest. “That’s actually what I wanted to—” He stumbles forward into Joey’s chest, but Joey catches him and holds him upright before Chandler ends up with his face in Joey’s crotch.

            The insecure, neurotic part of his brain is passed out drunk right now, so Chandler decides he’s going to take advantage of this fleeting confidence while it lasts.  “I want you to kiss me again.”

            Joey stares at him for a moment, his brow furrowed in confusion. It’s an expression that Chandler is very familiar with; he’s seen Joey look at particularly challenging crossword puzzles the same way. “Chandler, you’re drunk.”

          “You’re not wrong, but”—Chandler takes a deep breath through his nose—“oh my God, you smell amazing.”  

            Joey gives him a proud, grateful smile. “Thanks! But it’s nothin’ special. Just the same aftershave I always use.” Then he frowns, like he’s angry at himself for being distracted by the compliment. “Wait, how come you want me to kiss you again?”

            “Because I liked it, okay?” he answers a little too defensively. “Because I liked it and it’s New Year’s Eve and our dates bailed on us and we’re alone and you’re really attractive and why not?” It comes out in a flood of words that Joey doesn’t seem to be following.

            There’s a long moment of silence where Chandler gets to enjoy the echoes of his stupid words as if they haven’t just ruined his entire life.  Why does he let his brain talk him into things? He’s never drinking again.

            “Actually, I think it’s New Year’s Day,” Joey says, sounding blankly unmoved by Chandler’s word-vomit.

            He curls his fingers in Joey’s shirt, which only draws his attention to the fact that he can see ridges and curves and muscle through the material. Damn it, this is not helping.

            “Never mind. I’m an idiot. Forget I said anything. I should’ve stopped talking five minutes ago.” Chandler shoves himself away from Joey and starts moving toward the first door he sees. “I’m just—I’m just gonna go to bed now, and we can forget this ever happened and get on with our lives.”

            He’s in the middle of turning the doorknob on the front door when a warm hand eclipses his own. “Your bedroom’s that way,” Joey reminds him, tipping his head in the opposite direction that Chandler’s going.

            “I knew that. I was just—” Chandler turns his body around, and Joey’s _right there_ , watching him with appraising eyes—then he’s pushing his mouth over Chandler’s. Chandler sort of gasps around the kiss, making Joey nudge him back against the door, their mouths still latched.  Chandler feels a surge of panic, because there’s definitely _something_ hard against his thigh, and he’s fairly sure it’s not Joey’s wallet. He’s trying not to think about that, but through the boozy haze the realization hits him that he’s kissing his ridiculously attractive roommate who might just be fully hard.

            Joey reaches out and palms the sides of Chandler’s face, pulling him forward to deepen the kiss. Chandler hums a moan. “This is really good,” he murmurs around Joey’s mouth, because that’s something he has to say out loud. The words make Joey pull away, and Chandler has no idea what he did wrong. “And you’re stopping. Why are you stopping? Was it because I started talking? ‘Cause I can...not do that.”

            Joey shrugs in a way that’s self-conscious and lost, and it makes Chandler’s chest hurt. “I didn’t think I’d wanna do it again, y’know? It’s like I was kissin’ a woman—”

            “I’m going to let that one slide,” Chandler warns.

            “But I was kissin’ you, too!” Joey squirms, his gaze flickering back to Chandler. “Okay, I liked it a lot, alright? ‘Cause it’s you, y’know, and that’s pretty great, but it’s _you_ and that’s also sorta weird!” He’s gesturing in a way that Chandler guesses is supposed to mean something.

            “So, what, do you just wanna pretend this never happened, or...” It’s a wonder he manages to say that much before his throat swells.

            Joey hesitates for what feels like the longest five seconds of Chandler’s life before kissing him again, and this time there’s a rougher edge to it. Chandler shuts up and lets it happen, his mouth occupied in the best way. He raises a hand to tug Joey closer, then he feels Joey’s tongue in his mouth, which shorts his brain a little and sends a shiver of confusion up his spine.

            Joey eases forward, slides his knee between Chandler’s legs and Chandler has no idea how he’s _not_ supposed to grind into Joey’s thigh when it’s right there.This is the hottest thing Chandler’s ever been a part of.He squirms, shifting his hips, and, oh God, the friction feels so good. Joey grunts a little when their hips come together in a mutual nudge that makes Chandler’s insides clench. Chandler is very aware of his own erection right now, even though Joey’s is shoved against him like they’re in an over-crowded elevator.

            Chandler sucks in a startled gasp when Joey’s fingers shove at the edge of his pants. _Holyshitholyshitholyshit._ Joey is undressing him—or trying to. Chandler reaches down to help him.

            Joey interprets this as resistance and immediately backs away. “Whoa, sorry, sorry, I thought—I thought you were cool with it.”

            Chandler wets his lips, realizes that Joey’s not kissing them. “I—I am. I was trying to help you.”

            “Oh.” Joey looks humiliated for a second before chuckling to himself. “Well, in that case...” He closes the distance between them again and covers Chandler’s mouth with his own. Chandler thinks his heart might burst free from his chest, like something out of a bad sci-fi movie, because Joey’s fingertips are moving and flexing over his skin in a way that slams right through him. He can still feel the engorged line of Joey’s dick. Chandler reaches down and brushes his hand over it, wrenching a moan out of Joey and making his hips jerk forward.

            Chandler realizes with a start that Joey wants him to touch his dick. But he has to ask, just to make sure, because it’s the polite thing to do, and he really wants to hear it from Joey’s mouth. “Is this—this is okay, right?”

            Joey makes a noise in the back of his throat and croaks, “Yeah, of course.” They’re staring at each other’s hands, their foreheads pressed together in this mutual moment of confusion before Chandler reaches into Joey’s underwear and curves his fingers around his cock. It’s weird from this angle, but Chandler’s a fast learner, stroking slow and easy.

            His gaze jumps between the thick jut of Joey’s dick and the way Joey’s face is reacting to the shift of his hand. Joey groans through his teeth as Chandler’s fist closes around him, and the sound travels down Chandler’s spine and bursts in a hot flare of arousal in his groin. He can’t remember ever being this close to a sex noise that’s made his insides go all twisty and funny.

            Joey’s rolling his hips into Chandler’s hand, making cracked little moans in his throat. Amidst his gasps and panted breaths Joey gets his hand around the length of Chandler’s cock. Chandler makes a choked noise of arousal, because Joey is touching him and it’s good all the way through him. “Oh my God—”

            “Do you want me to”—Joey bites his lip and makes a pleading noise when his hips collide with Chandler’s fist—“I mean, I can touch you, right?”

            “Yes, yes, touching is good!” Chandler sort of shouts, his voice too high and panicky and already in shambles. “Keep doing the touching.” On a normal day he might feel self-conscious about that, but Joey’s hand is warm and tight and perfect around him, and this is absolutely not a normal day.

            Joey’s breathing the filthiest fucking noises into Chandler’s ear while his hips pound into his fist, rhythm gone out the window; Chandler’s only ever heard him like this through the bedroom wall before now. His mouth drops open when he realizes that Joey’s going to come, and he gets to watch it.

            “Are you gonna—”

            Joey answers that by shoving himself forward and slotting their bodies together. Chandler doesn’t have any words left, just watches Joey’s hips push into his hand until it all shakes out of him and Joey’s coming in jerky, messy thrusts over Chandler’s fingers and his body slackens like the bones have been pulled out of him. Everything about Joey in this moment is just perfect and so fucking good.

            Chandler takes a moment to remember how to inhale properly while Joey’s ghosting shuddery breaths against his ear. He strokes his fingers over Joey’s softening dick, and Joey jerks him hard and fast in appreciation.  “Oh God,” Chandler gasps out, because everything is hard and wet and he’s too close to the edge right now. He can feel his orgasm pressing at the base of his spine, waiting to erupt like a firecracker.

            “Go ahead.” Joey’s voice is low and thick with lust, and Chandler doesn’t even bother wondering why that turns him on. He moves his hand to cover Joey’s and tips his head back against the door. He’s whining embarrassing, pleading noises that he hopes Joey won’t hold against him later, because all he can do right now is beg and grasp his hands in Joey’s shirt for something to hold on to. “C’mon,” Joey murmurs with no trace of impatience, his thumb dragging over the swollen head of Chandler’s dick, and Chandler can feel the dizzying pull of orgasm hurtling toward him. “Give it up for me.”

            That’s when the dam breaks and Chandler’s coming harder than he ever has in his entire life.

            He licks his lips and drops his head down, his entire body broken and weary. His muscles are loose and shuddery-good. Everything’s pretty good right now, if he’s honest. He wants to do this all the time. He takes a moment to focus on how Joey’s breathing wetly over the curve of his neck. It feels nice, like something he could get used to.

           “So, uh, so that was a thing that—that happened,” Chandler manages to say, still blissed out from his orgasm.

            “Yeah, that happened,” Joey agrees in a way that tells Chandler nothing. There’s a long moment of silence in which they retract their hands from each other’s dicks and adjust their pants. This isn’t even the most awkward post-sex experience Chandler’s had.  But he doesn’t want this to end on a “let’s pretend this never happened” note.

            He’s about to say something stupid when Joey looks down, frowns, and draws his shirt over his head. Chandler might just be the luckiest man alive today. He can’t help but gape in awe at how Joey just curls out of his clothes; Chandler barely manages to keep his tongue in the vicinity of his mouth.

            Joey slings the shirt over his shoulder before walking into the kitchen. “Damn, I’m thirsty,” he says in a way that doesn’t sound like uncomfortable silence-filler. He opens the fridge and pulls out a carton of orange juice. Chandler’s gaze is still snagged on the tense muscles of Joey’s stomach and the naked slope of his chest. Joey takes a long swig from the carton, asks, “Want some?”

            Chandler’s almost certainly going to get hard again if he keeps ogling him. He manages to shake his head in response and tear his gaze away from Joey’s body. “I should, uh, I should go—get a shower,” he says, fleeing down the hallway. “I mean, it’s late. Long day tomorrow, y’know. Some of us work for a living.”

            Joey doesn’t say anything for a moment, then: “Chandler, you don’t work tomorrow!”

            Chandler shuts the bathroom door.

# 

Later that morning, Chandler’s sprawled out dramatically on the couch at Monica and Rachel’s, wondering what it all means. Joey’s still sleeping back at their apartment, probably hung over from last night. No, Joey’s _definitely_ hung over, because there’s no way he would have touched Chandler’s dick without every cell in his body soaked in alcohol.

            “How come you’re not hung over like the rest of the guys?” Monica asks him from the kitchen table.

            “Well, I, uh, I didn’t really have time to drink that much. I sort of...hooked up with someone after the party.”

            Monica frowns. “Oh God, honey, tell me it wasn’t Janice.”

            “No, it wasn’t Janice,” Chandler groans. He really wishes people would let him live that whole relationship down, but he knows it’s never going to happen. “It was good, but...I don’t know what to say now.”

            “What did you say when it was over?”

            “There was a lot of standing around awkwardly, stilted good nights, and I might have taken refuge in the shower until they left.” He’s not proud of any of this.

            Monica snorts a laugh. “Only you, Chandler.”

            “So just tell her it was a one-time thing and let her down easy,” Rachel says. She studies his distressed expression for a moment. “You’ve never been on the other side of this conversation before, have you?”

            Chandler sort of squirms under her stare. “That’s the thing, though. I don’t exactly...mind that it happened. I really want it to happen again.”

            “And you don’t know if _she_ wants it to happen again?”

            “Exactly!” Chandler sits up and tucks his legs underneath him. “Okay, so imagine you’re at a party and this guy kisses you.”  Rachel sits on the arm of the couch, puts on her best “I’m listening” face. “You end up going back to his place and kissing some more, then one thing leads to another but it’s not like ‘ _sex’_ sex, you just sorta fool around and there’s an orgasm or two in there. It seems like they’re focused on making you feel good, making sure you’re okay with it, y’know, but you had no idea this guy even knew you existed. Then they act sorta casual when it’s over, like it wasn’t even a thing. Would you think the guy was into you or not?”

            “Not if he hid in the shower,” Monica says when Chandler’s finished.

            Chandler glares at her over the top of the couch before he has a lightbulb moment in his head. Did he fail so hard that he gave Joey the absolute worst impression? Because that sounds exactly like something he would do. Knowing his luck, Joey might’ve been into him but gotten scared off because Chandler has the interpersonal skills of a swamp creature.

            “Oh my God,” Chandler realizes. “I’m an idiot!”

            “They’re always the last to know,” Monica says to Rachel.

            Chandler rushes out of the apartment and goes across the hall. He needs to tell Joey that he’s just a social disaster before Joey assumes Chandler flat-out doesn’t like him. Because the truth is absolutely the opposite of that, and it’s kind of absurd how bad Chandler is at life.

            He gets the door open to see Joey in the kitchen pouring himself a bowl of cereal, like he’s not hung over and nothing out of the ordinary happened last night. Chandler swallows thickly, his throat suddenly dry as his courage drops out of him. Well, that was an empowering five seconds.

            “Hey, Chandler,” Joey says around a spoonful of Cap’n Crunch.

            Chandler manages a “hey.” This whole unattainable crush thing was so much easier when Joey didn’t have his hand in Chandler’s pants about nine hours ago. If Joey remembers that little detail, he doesn’t seem to care. Chandler wonders what life must be like when you’re not constantly worrying about something. It must be nice.

            “Great party last night, huh?”

            Chandler thinks Joey’s just making fun of him now. “Yeah, actually, about that...” Joey stares at him, waiting for elaboration and shoveling in spoonfuls of cereal. “I, um, I really, uh...” Chandler feels his heartbeat pounding in his throat. “I really enjoyed last night.” Crunch. Crunch. “And, uh, if you wanted it to happen again sometime, I would be—I would be okay with that.”

            Joey gives him the weirdest look. “The party? Well, yeah, it was fun, but I don’t think it’s gonna happen again for a while. You can’t have two New Years’ in one year!”

            Chandler drops his gaze to the countertop and says, “No, I—I mean the _afterparty_.”

            Joey lifts his eyebrows in realization, then he’s putting on his seductive face. “Oh, yeah, that. Yeah, that was great too.”

            He called it great—that’s gotta count for something, Chandler figures. “So, you wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime?”

            Joey smiles and carries his bowl to the couch, clapping Chandler on the shoulder as he passes by. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

            And now it’s been downgraded to nice in record time. Chandler’s getting worse at this somehow.

            “Okay, great, ‘cause, y’know, we gotta live together, so let’s get this out in the open and make sure nothing’s weird.” He’s pretty sure jerking off your roommate counts as weird, but, whatever, he’s just going to go with it.

            “You’re makin’ it weird, Chandler,” Joey says with his mouth full. “Just relax.”

            “Relax?” Chandler enunciates, gesturing wildly to the benefit of no one, since Joey’s seated in the armchair not looking at him. “I don’t know what that word means!”

            Joey looks back at him in surprise. “Really? That’s a shame, even I know that one.”

            Chandler just groans and searches the kitchen for suitable breakfast food.


	2. The One With Chandler’s Performance Issues

**Chapter 2: The One With Chandler’s Performance Issues**

Chandler’s in bed flipping through some boring novel Ross insisted he read. It’s been a couple of days since the “incident” with Joey, and Joey hasn’t made any attempt to acknowledge that it happened or that they’d agreed it could happen again. Did Chandler break some sort of unspoken, handjob etiquette rule by acknowledging that it even happened? Joey seems to have gone back to life as usual, as if the whole thing was just a blip on the radar of his sex life. Chandler really hopes Joey doesn’t bring tonight’s date home, because the absolute last thing he needs right now is to be reminded of what he’s missing.

            It’s probably for the best, anyway. Dating Joey would suck. Keeping it a secret from everyone else would be a royal pain in the ass. Ross would be mortified and betrayed, because it’s not enough that his ex-wife is a lesbian, no, his two best friends have to discover their sexual enlightenment together too. The girls would be overly supportive and accepting to the point of just being patronizing.

            If they broke up, they’d have to move out and make entirely new friends—it wouldn’t be fair for just one of them to keep the apartment and hang out at Central Perk. Chandler has friends simply through insane strokes of luck, so Joey would definitely come out the winner on that front. Chandler could potentially lose everything here. He should be relieved that Joey seems to be repressing the entire incident.

            Chandler starts to drift until he hears a knock on his bedroom door, then Joey’s voice from the other side: “Hey, Chandler, you up?”

            “Yeah, just keep it down in there, alright?”

            Joey opens the door and lets himself in, because he has no sense of personal space. “What’re you talkin’ about? My date was terrible!”

            “Did she stick you with the check?”

            Joey collapses into a sit on the edge of the bed, looking as if he’s been wronged by the universe. “No, we just didn’t have much in common, y’know? Kinda like you and Janice.”

            Chandler cringes at what he’s about to say: “Janice and I share similarities.”

            “Like what?”

            “We’re both incredibly off-putting and reek of desperation.” Joey scoffs in an almost angry way. Chandler doesn’t know how to answer that, but he keeps talking. “Did you even give this girl a chance?”

            “‘Course I did, but, for one thing, she kept laughin’ at all my jokes.”

            “Not seeing the problem.”

            “She didn’t seem like she had much of a personality, I guess, like she was always reacting to what I said instead of tryin’ to make me laugh or somethin’.”

            “Maybe she was just nervous,” Chandler says in an attempt to be helpful. “She might really like you and just didn’t want to say anything too stupid on the first date.”

            “Or maybe I got too focused on her looks when I asked her out.”

            Chandler sits up in a panic. “Who are you and what have you done with Joey?”

            Joey snorts a laugh. “C’mon, Chandler, don’t you ever get sick of datin’ women you got nothin’ in common with?”

            “‘Sick of dating women’?” Chandler squeezes his eyes shut, pulls a thoughtful face. “I don’t understand what those words mean in that order. And it frightens me that you do.” The joke doesn’t seem to lift Joey’s spirits. Chandler shrugs and pats him on the shoulder. “Cheer up, Joe, there’ll be plenty of other dates. I’m sure you’ll find a woman who loves food as much as you do.” A lightbulb flicks on in his head. “What about Monica?”

            “Our Monica?”

            “Why not? She’s a chef, she’s hot, you’re already friends with her, and why am I still talking?” Chandler hates his brain for this.

            “You really think Monica’d have sex with me?”

            It comes out before Chandler has a chance to stop it, almost like he’s a prisoner in his own body and someone who hates him is speaking for him: “You can have sex with anybody. I mean, we said we could make New Year’s happen again, remember?”

            It takes a moment for Joey to understand, but once he does he’s wearing his seductive face again. “Oh yeah, we did.” He crawls closer and leans forward, flattening his palm over Chandler’s stomach. Chandler is acutely aware of how close Joey’s hand is to his dick right now. “You want it to happen again?”

            Chandler swallows hard, his gaze flitting between Joey’s face and hand. “If—if you do, yeah.” He really needs to work on not sounding like a complete and total virgin.

            Joey moves into Chandler’s lap, legs on either side of him, and gives his hips a little push. Chandler makes a choked noise and pushes back. Joey shifts, then there’s a redistribution of weight focused on Chandler’s dick, and oh God that’s good. Chandler reaches out with shaky hands and grabs Joey’s hips, pulling him forward. The friction forces a startled, throaty moan from Joey, and, wow, Chandler enjoys that a little more than he should.

            “Oh, you, uh, you like that?” Chandler’s burning calories trying to sound sexy. “You’d tell me if I did something you didn’t like, right?” Joey bites his lip and pushes down wordlessly, letting the spike of heat that flares in Chandler’s groin speak for itself. “Oh, that’s—that’s good,” Chandler breathes out, rolling his hips. “That’s really good.”

            Joey folds at the waist, covers Chandler’s mouth with his own to stop the flow of words. “Chandler, shut up. God, you’re killin’ me!” His fingers flex over Chandler’s stomach, like he wants to dig them in.

             “Shutting up. I can do that.”

            Joey kisses him again, this time opening his mouth and touching Chandler’s tongue with his own while their hips grind. Chandler gasps hotly, his spine arching up and into the pressure.  Joey moans over Chandler’s mouth, and Chandler can feel it rumble through his body and rattle his bones. His hands are in Joey’s hair, pushing through the brittle tufts of gelled strands. Joey’s moving quicker and harder, grinding against Chandler in a way that makes him feel hot and aching and bruised. He grits his teeth because, oh no, he is _not_ going to come this soon. But Joey rocks back and forth over his hips, breathing hot sighs against his mouth, and Chandler realizes that he absolutely _is_ going to come in his pants in front of Joey.

            Chandler doesn’t get an opportunity to warn him. When Joey grinds down again, Chandler’s gone, choking out praises around Joey’s lips as he comes.

            Joey freezes, as if a switch as been flipped. He breaks away from Chandler’s mouth and sits up straight in his lap. “Did you...” He trails off, gestures vaguely.

            Chandler really wishes the earth would swallow him right now. “Yeah...”

            “Already?”

            Chandler squirms and pushes a hand through his hair to sort of shield himself from his shame. “I can...make it up to you,” he says around a shaky breath, his orgasm still reverberating through him. “If you want, I mean. Or you can wait a couple minutes and I’ll be good to go again.”

            Joey looks impressed by this. “Really? Wow. I gotta see that.” Then: “You want me to just sit here and wait for it, or...?”

            “No, you can...do things.” Chandler really wants Joey to do things, particularly to himself while Chandler watches.

            “Great.” Joey folds at the waist again to kiss him, and this time it’s a little slower, deeper than before. He’s gripping the pillow underneath Chandler’s head, the other hand cupping his cheek to keep Chandler fully engaged in the kiss. Chandler decides to be adventurous and sticks a hand up Joey’s shirt. Joey doesn’t react until Chandler tweaks a nipple with his thumb, and that gets his hips moving again. Joey’s skin is hot and tight under his hands; Chandler can barely hear him gasping approval over the rush of blood in his own ears. Chandler’s had his fingers around Joey’s cock, yet somehow the span of his chest beneath his hands feels forbidden and dirty.

            Joey’s still rocking his hips in Chandler’s lap, soft and hard all at once. The sounds he’s making give Chandler a surge of fearlessness, and Chandler grabs the hem of Joey’s shirt and lifts it until Joey pulls it over his head. Seeing Joey’s naked chest not two feet away makes Chandler’s heart skip a beat or five. Joey is half-naked—on top of him—in his bed. Chandler wonders what he did in a past life to earn this.

            He decides not to push his luck, to simply admire Joey’s shirtless upper body, and he lets his hands wrap around the hard muscle of Joey’s thighs. Joey moves his hips like he wants Chandler’s hands touching something else, and Chandler is more than happy to comply with that. He plucks open the button on Joey’s jeans and works his hand in, finding the rock-hard jut of his cock. Chandler starts tugging and squeezing in way that makes Joey tip his head back and moan. He struggles with his urge to smile while he cups and twists the head of Joey’s dick, feeling the rough rub of denim against his wrist. Joey grunts a breathless sound and covers Chandler’s hand with his own to guide his strokes. Chandler doesn’t realize he’s humping blindly between Joey’s legs until his own erection is throbbing again.

            “Oh man, you weren’t kiddin’,” Joey says with a breathless chuckle. Chandler bites back a moan and keeps tugging fast and hard with slickened fingers until Joey replaces them with his own. Joey’s fist moves over his cock, the sticky-wet head of his dick disappearing then poking out again, and Chandler watches with lips uncoupled. He’s still thrusting up and meeting the solid wall of Joey’s hips, and the friction is doing wonders for both of them. Joey squeezes his eyes shut and whimpers something that sounds like a warning. Chandler drags his messy hands down Joey’s lower back and digs them into his underwear. He cups the tight, hot curve of Joey’s ass and pushes him forward, then Joey’s gone, crying out and shooting over his knuckles.

            When Chandler manages to stop staring at Joey’s bliss-laden expression, he realizes his own chest is striped wet. Joey doesn’t seem to notice this, continuing to thrust through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Chandler just frowns at the mess—his shirt is probably ruined now—but on the inside he’s pretty proud of himself; he did that, he thinks—he made Joey come. Joey’s coming down from the endorphin high, rocking his hips for Chandler’s benefit. “You’re still hard,” he pants. “Want me to take care of that for ya?”

            “Y—yes, please!”

            Joey sits back on his heels and chuckles. “Is this how you ask for stuff from girls? No wonder you got so much trouble.” He takes Chandler’s cock out and starts lazily working his hand over the shaft.

            “Remind me which one of us was”—Squirm. Grunt. Sigh—“complaining about his date tonight?” Chandler wants to sound bitchier, but it’s not easy when Joey’s jerking him off with a loose, slow fist.

            “Least I got a date,” Joey argues, tugging on Chandler’s dick and looking incredibly unenthused, like he has a million other things to be doing.

            Chandler props himself up on his elbows to fix him with a glare. “Are you bored?” This wouldn’t be the first time he’s had a sexual partner lose interest mid-coitus; Chandler’s sure that says something very sad and revealing about him.

           Joey meets his eyes. “No! What about you? This doin’ anything for ya?” He tugs a little harder. “C’mon, man, gimme somethin’!”

            Chandler would absolutely love to give him something if he didn’t think that Joey might be a little uncomfortable having another guy’s lips around his dick. Chandler keeps that thought in his head and revels in it. He doesn’t have to coax the noises out of his throat; Joey’s fingers are doing a great job of that.

            “Good, huh?” Joey teases, his hand sliding to meet the plane of Chandler’s hips. Chandler makes a sound of agreement and grips the sheets between his fingers. They shift and slide together, complementing the other’s movements. Chandler tips his head back, humming a soft, contented moan. Joey sighs—actually fucking _sighs_. “C’mon, Chandler, my hand’s gettin’ tired.”

            _Then use your mouth_ , Chandler thinks, smiling wryly. He doesn’t bother _not_ imagining Joey’s mouth around him, all heat and suction, and that’s it, that’s so far past it he can’t even think anymore. His orgasm leaves him in a burst of garbled words and frantic thrusts.

            Joey lets him slip free and peels his fingers from Chandler’s dick. “There we go.” He looks at the white splatters on Chandler’s t-shirt, unaware that some of them are his own. “Man, what were _you_ thinkin’ about? Were you havin’ that _Baywatch_ fantasy where you’re the only guy on the beach?” Joey smiles. “‘Cause I’ve had that one.”

            Chandler gives a non-committal nod, unable to form words right now—which is probably a good thing, because any words he might have would be embarrassing. Joey does not need to know about the blowjob fantasy, particularly the part about his involvement in it.

            Joey slides one foot onto the floor and stands up, grabbing his shirt off of the bed. “Well, thanks, Chandler. That was...good.” He makes his way to the door. Chandler’s still lying in bed, shivery with satisfaction. “Oh, by the way, you might wanna change.” Joey gestures to Chandler’s shirt and pants, both of which have been ejaculated on tonight.

            “Yeah, I’ll—I’ll do that. Thanks, Joe.”

            Joey gives him a thumbs-up before closing the door as he leaves.


	3. The One With the Kissing Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I'm not the only one in this fandom who's thought of this trope. I claim plausible deniability, and that great minds think alike.

**Chapter 3: The One With the Kissing Lessons**  

Chandler finds Monica and Phoebe at Central Perk the next day. “Hey, Mon.”

            Monica turns around. “Oh, Chandler, hey! So did you talk to her?”

            Chandler sits on the arm of the couch. “Yeah, I—I did.”

            “Ooh, who are we talking about?” Phoebe asks, setting down her magazine and directing her full attention to Chandler.

            Monica explains, “Chandler hooked up with some girl on New Year’s, and he wanted to see her again, so—”

            “Ah, ah, ah! My story!”

            “Oh, sorry.” Monica laughs and touches his hand. “Go on, honey.”

            “I don’t think I wanna tell it now,” he says with a pout. When Monica gives him a look, he shrugs and says to Phoebe, “You’re caught up.”

            “So what happened?”

            “We hooked up again last night, but...I don’t think it’s gonna go any further than that.” Chandler isn’t sure what’s worse: being able to touch Joey whenever he wants but having it mean nothing, or Joey just being off-limits to him entirely.

            “Aww, I’m sorry, Chandler,” Monica says.

            “Ooh, ooh! You could go out with my friend Abby!” Phoebe interjects. “She’s into”—she searches for the word—“funny guys.”

            Chandler straightens up, tilts his head. “You think I’m funny?”

            “Well, she will.”

            Chandler’s self-confidence plummets back down to its usual total of zero.

#

The next morning, Chandler’s in the kitchen making toast when Joey finally emerges from his bedroom. He’d never admit it, but Chandler is insanely jealous of Joey’s ability to just wake up whenever he wants; he is not, however, jealous of Joey’s running tab with him. But he’s a reasonable man; for a blowjob, he’d forget about it.

            He really needs to stop thinking about blowjobs—especially blowjobs that involve Joey.

            Joey lifts an eyebrow at Chandler and does that appraising walk thing he does when he’s checking out a beautiful woman. Chandler feels the prickle of his stare and tries not to succumb to the full-body thrill of it. “So, Chandler, you, uh, you busy tonight?” He flashes a smile that would absolutely make Chandler disrobe if he were a more brazen man. “I don’t have anything planned, so if you wanted to”—he shrugs—“y’know, I’m available.”

            “I’d like to, Joe, but I have a date tonight.”

            “Oh.” Chandler watches all traces of positive emotion fall right off of Joey’s face; it’s pretty heartbreaking. Joey tries to force it back on, but it doesn’t look right. “Well, hey, that’s great! Anybody I know?”

            “Phoebe’s friend Abby. Apparently she’ll think my jokes are funny.”

            “I think your jokes are funny!”

            Chandler rolls his eyes. “Well, Abby has a few things you...don’t.”

            Joey stares at him blankly. “Longer hair?” Chandler gestures over his chest in a way that’s supposed to represent breasts; Joey gives him a cheeky grin. “Oh, I gotcha. Nice.”

            Chandler is stunned that evening when his date with Abby doesn’t end in a humiliating disaster. She doesn’t seem to get the impression that he’s a walking failure at everything, and Phoebe was right—she does think he’s funny.

            He returns to his apartment later that night with a much-needed confidence boost. Joey calls to him from another room: “Chandler? That you?”

            “No, it’s a burglar with a key to the apartment; I’ve come for your valuables.”

            Joey’s chuckling as he swings open the bathroom door and lets the shower steam out. “Good one. So, how was your date?” His hair is damp, his white t-shirt clinging from the humidity.

            Chandler’s heart slams erratically in his chest. He shuts his eyes, wets his lips. “Good, it was...good.”  He’s trying not to ogle, but Joey’s body is insanely distracting, and his wetness really isn’t helping Chandler focus.

            Joey gives him a sympathetic look before patting his shoulder. “Aw, I’m sorry, man.”

            Chandler has no idea what the hell Joey’s talking about. “No, it was fine! She wants to see me again Friday night!”

            “C’mon, Chandler, you don’t have to lie to me. I’ve had my share of bad dates too.”

            “Is it really so hard to believe I went on a date that didn’t end in disaster?” Joey opens his mouth, but Chandler cuts him off. “Never mind, don’t answer that. Look, I’m not lying. Abby and I had a great time, and we’re going out again. I wanted to bring her here for a drink, but”—Chandler rubs the back of his neck—“I got too nervous. All I could do was kiss her good night.”

            “Hey, a good kiss does a lot for a woman.”

            Or a man, Chandler thinks, remembering how Joey’s mouth felt on his own—wet and hungry. He sees an opportunity here and grabs hold of it. “Do you think I’m a good kisser?”

            Joey gives him a controlled shrug. “How’d you do it?”

            “Well, Joe, when two people like each other they put their lips together and—”

            “No, I mean, you weren’t too intense, were ya?” Chandler thinks about it. “You don’t wanna scare her off, but you wanna let her know you’re into her, right?”

            Chandler nods. “Do you—do you want me to show you...?”

            “If you want. I could give you a few pointers.” Joey leans against the kitchen counter in a confusing mix of nonchalant and seductive.

            Chandler wonders if he’s fallen into an alternate universe where his life is an adult film; he feels like the funky porno music should be kicking on. “Well, okay...” He steps toward Joey tentatively, like they haven’t jerked each other off twice now. He brings a hand up to Joey’s cheek to pull him in. Joey’s drawn into the kiss, but he doesn’t kiss back, just lets Chandler lead. Chandler tries to kiss him the way he kissed Abby, but it’s so different with Joey—there’s heat there, and the good kind of fear, like the split-second before the plunge on a roller coaster, and a fluttery feeling in his stomach that’s more than just nerves.

            He pulls away before he goes too far, and when he opens his eyes he sees Joey’s appraising expression. “Chandler, man, you gotta relax.” He chuckles. “You’re all tense. Your hand’s like a block of cement. You gotta be gentle, like this.” Chandler feels the heat of Joey’s palm against his cheek before Joey’s kissing him, soft and controlled. He has to remind himself to breathe through his nose, not to gasp around his lips like being kissed is a totally foreign concept. He feels the subtle presence of tongue in his mouth, a slow glide over his own, and then his bottom lip before it’s finished. Joey’s forehead presses against his temple. Joey murmurs, “Then when she thinks it’s over,” and their intimacy lasts the length of one breath—he tilts his head and goes in for another kiss. This one’s much shorter than the first, a light peck of lips that promises something more.

            Chandler doesn’t understand how parts of his body that aren’t his dick have any blood in them right now. It’s really a wonder that his legs haven’t just given up entirely underneath him. He licks his lips, because, yeah, he’s a cliché, and says, “Wow.” There are so many things he could have said, but that’s the one he chose. He hates himself.

            Joey’s grinning all self-satisfied. “Yeah, that’s how it’s done. That little one at the end seals the deal every time.”

            Chandler’s got half a mind to try it out on Joey, but Joey probably has some sort of weird immunity to his own tricks, like a sexually frustrating wizard. “R—really?”

            Joey nods. “Try it out. Get some practice in. You don’t wanna mess this up.”

            “You sure?”

            “Yeah!” He whacks his hand playfully against Chandler’s chest. “Quit bein’ a wuss and kiss me.”

            Chandler doesn’t need to be told twice, but since Joey insisted he’s feeling a little more confident. He gets his hands full of Joey’s t-shirt and tugs them together. Chandler feels Joey’s lips pull into a smile or a smirk—he can’t tell which—and he pushes his hands under Joey’s shirt, skimming over the curve of his stomach.

            “Nice,” Joey laughs around his mouth, “got a little hand action goin’ there.”

            Chandler recaptures his lips for the encore, his hands curving around to the dip of Joey’s lower back.  He keeps his palms pressed there, heavy and warm over Joey’s freshly-scrubbed skin, even after the kiss is finished.

            “That was great! You kiss her like that, and she’ll do whatever you want!”

            Chandler’s pretty proud of himself; he’s a fast learner, and Joey complimented him on his kissing expertise. He’s had a very productive day. There’s an opportunity here to make it even more productive, but touching Joey is a privilege that Chandler doesn’t want to abuse. Especially under the circumstances: he doesn’t want Joey to think he’s just using him as a practice dummy. So instead of kissing him again, Chandler says, “Well, I hope so. That’s...sort of what I’m going for.”

            Joey doesn’t have the same restraint. He curls his hand around the back of Chandler’s neck and nudges his head forward so their mouths can meet. Chandler makes a soft noise in his throat before managing to get his lips free. “Ah, ah, careful. I might do whatever you want if you kiss me like that.”

            Joey laughs like he thinks Chandler’s making another joke, but Chandler’s never been more serious.


	4. The One Where Joey Won’t Let Chandler Have Nice Things

**Chapter 4: The One Where Joey Won’t Let Chandler Have Nice Things**  

Chandler plans out tonight’s date with Abby in his head all day at work. He thinks about what he might say, imagines his side of the conversation going conspicuously well. Abby seemed to like him enough on their first date; she didn’t shove him away or wince when he moved in to kiss her. That’s always a good sign. He wonders if she said anything about him to Phoebe. Then he remembers some of the conversations he’s heard—and partaken in—at Central Perk and Monica’s apartment. Abby definitely talked about him with Phoebe. He’s not sure why that excites him so much, but his working theory is that Abby might actually be into him.

            It’s a rare thing for Chandler to have a girl—or anyone, really—be interested in him. He’s not going to fool himself into thinking Joey’s one of the exceptions. People who look like Joey are not interested in people who look like Chandler. Not that he _wants_ Joey to be interested in him that way—no, of course not. Chandler loves women. The whole friends with benefits thing is just a can of worms he’s not going to open because thinking about it gives him a migraine.

            He’s putting his key into the lock of his apartment just as Joey’s leaving Monica and Rachel’s. “Hey, Chandler,” Joey starts before biting into a slice of pizza in his other hand, “what if I told you I got your favorite pizza, and Ross gave me two extra tickets for tonight’s Rangers game, and”—he lifts an eyebrow, grinning—“later on we got the apartment to ourselves?”

            Chandler gets a sudden flash of Joey shoving him against the door on New Year’s. He fights the delicious shiver that rolls up his spine. “Joe, I’m sorry, I got a date tonight, remember? I can’t cancel on her.”

            Joey looks disappointed for a moment before his face goes weirdly neutral. “You don’t have to cancel it. Just reschedule.”

            Chandler sighs and lets himself into his apartment. Joey follows him in, chewing another bite of pizza. “C’mon, man, you get all these opportunities for dates,” Chandler says. “I can’t just blow off the one person who likes me.” The distressed furrow of Joey’s brow grows deeper and deeper. “Go with Ross. Invite Phoebe if she doesn’t have plans. Go out for drinks and have a good time. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

            Joey looks slightly alarmed by this. “Tomorrow morning?” Then he gets it. “Oh, nice. You got some confidence, huh?”

            “I’m remaining cautiously optimistic,” Chandler corrects, because there’s a huge difference between being confident and just hoping nothing goes horribly wrong.

            Chandler’s cautious optimism pays off. His second date with Abby goes surprisingly well, and she doesn’t even cringe when he suggests they retire to his apartment. He is absolutely going to have sex tonight, and it’s sex with a woman who thinks he’s “cute and charming.” This might be some sort of miracle.

            “Tonight was the first time I’ve had ice cream in, like, ten years,” Abby’s saying as they round the corner to Chandler’s apartment.

            “Have you been living on the sun for the past decade?”

            She giggles and swats at his chest. “No, silly! One summer when I was thirteen, my friends and I were at the community center pool, and there was a guy there I had a crush on, so I was wearing this cute little bikini. Anyway, the ice cream truck came by, so we all started chasing it, but my stupid brother just _had_ to get there first.” She rolls her eyes. “So he grabs the back of my bathing suit to sorta pull me backwards, which completely just pulls off my top. All my friends saw my boobs!”

            Chandler feels bad for laughing, but he figures there’s a statute of limitations for things like this. “And that put you off ice cream for ten years?”

            She gives him a look. “You try enjoying something when your brain associates it with giving teenage boys their first look at real breasts.”

            He shrugs, conceding. “So I take it you haven’t gone swimming since then either?”

            They reach the door of his apartment, and she slides a hand up his arm. “Maybe that can be our next date,” she says. Chandler feels electricity crawl over his skin.

            “Will I get to take off your top?” He’s half-joking, but Abby answers with, “You can do that tonight,” and Chandler’s insides twist into an aroused knot. He brings his hand to the back of her head, his fingers sliding through the short bob of dark hair, and she stands on her tip-toes to kiss him. Her lips taste like cherries. Chandler tries to remember the pointers Joey gave him, but that takes his brain in an entirely different direction and reminds him of kissing Joey, and that’s not something he wants to think about right now. He focuses on her body against his—it’s nothing like the rigid muscle of Joey’s: it’s soft, smooth, plush. Chandler wonders how she might feel when it’s just skin on skin, his mouth roaming over breasts and thighs.

            He takes her bottom lip between his teeth and gets the door open with his free hand. He doesn’t bother flicking on the lights, just keeps kissing her with varying intensity. Screw Joey’s advice; he’s winging it here and doing pretty damn well. Chandler hoists her up onto the kitchen counter to make the whole kissing thing easier. She wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him in, making a contented sound around his mouth. He slides a hand along her thigh, hitching up her skirt.

            Abby mumbles, “Chandler,” and he freezes almost statue-still.

            “Should I—should I not do that?” His face is a study in sheer panic.

            “No, that’s fine,” she says, placing a reassuring hand on his. Then she drops her voice to a murmur. “But I sorta want you to kiss me...somewhere else.”

            Chandler’s amazed he hasn’t spontaneously combusted by now. He’s never gone out with a woman who actually asked him for oral sex; they must have figured if he was awkward and clumsy during the date he’d be awkward and clumsy at that too. “Is that something I can do? You—you want me to do that?”

            Abby nods, gives him an encouraging smile. “Hands are fine too. Y’know, if you’ve never...”

            Chandler thinks he’s blinking too much. “You’re not playing one huge joke on me, are you? Because if you are I think I might actually cry.” That makes her laugh. “I don’t know how to live in a world where women actually ask me to do that.”

            She laces her fingers behind his head. “Well, for starters, you could say yes.”

            Chandler is absolutely about to say yes when Joey’s bedroom door opens. “Chandler?”

            Oh goddamn it.

            Joey starts walking out of his bedroom. “I thought I heard your voice.” He notices that Chandler isn’t alone, and his expression changes in realization. “Oh, is this your date?”

            Chandler sighs. “Abby, this is my roommate Joey. Joey—Abby. Well, that was fun! Goodnight, Joey!” He moves to try to shove Joey back in the direction of his bedroom, but Joey doesn’t budge.

            Joey just stands there, ignoring him like Chandler’s a doggedly persistent mosquito. Then he turns his attention to Abby. “How you doin’?”

            “Joey, no!” Chandler panics, because if Abby’s got low enough standards to like him she’s not going to stand a chance against Joey’s charm.

            “What?” Joey asks around a laugh. “It’s refreshing to see him bring a woman around here,” he says to her.

            Abby hops off of the counter to be nearer to Chandler. “Yeah, he told me he hasn’t dated in a while.”

            Joey glances at him in disbelief. “You didn’t tell her?”

            “Tell her what?”

            “Tell me what?”

            Joey turns back to Abby. “Chandler’s gay.”

            Chandler flails his arms so much it looks like he’s trying to fly. “What?”

             Joey continues ignoring him. “Yeah, it’s a shame. He tries bringin’ girls here every once in a while, but he never gets very far. Oh, sure, he can kiss ‘em, but once it starts goin’ further than that...” Joey makes a gesture, and Chandler’s got no idea what he’s supposed to be communicating with that.

            “What? No! No! He’s lying! He’s lying!” Chandler insists.

            “See, he won’t even admit it!” Joey says. “He’s so deep in the closet he’s findin’ Christmas presents!”

            Abby stifles a laugh. “That...actually explains a lot.” Chandler’s jaw drops in horror. Joey’s just grinning like an idiot. Abby reaches out and takes Chandler’s hand. “Chandler, honey, tonight was fun, but I think I wanna date a guy who knows how to please a woman.”

            “I can learn! Teach me!”

            Joey’s trying very hard not to laugh; it may very well be the best acting he’s ever done. “If you ever want a guy to help you pick out furniture, he’s your man,” he calls to Abby before she leaves them alone in the apartment.

            Chandler takes a deep, slow breath through his nose, then he turns around to face Joey. “I am going to punch you in the mouth!” He storms up to Joey and jabs his finger into his chest.

            “Ooh, Chandler, I get all tingly when you take control like that.”

            Chandler pulls away, taken aback by the flirtation, and just opts to scowl at him. “Is this your idea of a joke? Why would you go bother giving me advice the other night if you were just gonna sabotage me?” Joey’s face scrunches in, and Chandler feels a little guilty that he made Joey look like that. “You get dates all the time! Women throw themselves at you! Why couldn’t you just let me have this?”

            Joey shuffles his feet and stares down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, maybe I went a little too far—”

            “You think?” Chandler shouts, still furious.

            “But, c’mon, man, I saw how nervous you were when you came home from that first date.  Hell, you made out with me ‘cause you were so worried about gettin’ it right with her.” Joey shifts his weight from one foot to the other and pushes his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants. “I just—I just think the right person won’t make you so nervous, y’know?”

            “Hi, have we met? I am the personification of nervous!”

            “Didn’t seem that way when we were kissin’ the other night,” Joey sort of mumbles.

            Chandler opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. “That’s different. It’s you. We’re friends. We’re comfortable with each other.”

            “Then maybe that’s what you should be lookin’ for.”

            Chandler scoffs an angry sound. “Really? That’s rich coming from you, Joe; you’ve asked telemarketers out over the phone!”

            “Hey, sometimes they just sound hot, alright?” Joey replies defensively. Chandler keeps glaring at him, so he provides a better answer. “Besides, what works for me doesn’t work for everybody. You’re kinda terrible at meetin’ women, so it might be easier for you to date somebody you’re already close with.”

            “Like who? Monica? Rachel? Phoebe?”

            “W—well—”

            “And let’s say one of them, for some god-forsaken reason, actually wanted to go out with me. What if we broke up and couldn’t stand to be in the same room with each other?”

            “So, what, just ‘cause somethin’ bad might happen you’re not even gonna try?”

            “It’s like you don’t know me at all!” Chandler exclaims, stalking across the floor to his bedroom.

            “Wait!” Joey calls after him. Chandler stops and listens.  “Alright, look, there’s another reason why I acted like an idiot tonight,” Joey admits, tentatively, like the words physically hurt him. “I really like spendin’ time with you, and I thought if you got a girlfriend, we wouldn’t be able to hang out as often, y’know? And I...I kinda wanted us to have the place to ourselves tonight...”

            Not good enough. Chandler’s still furiously angry. “Here’s an idea: why don’t _you_ get a girlfriend so you don’t have to do all that stuff with me?” He doesn’t give Joey time to answer before he’s slamming his bedroom door behind him.


	5. The One Where Joey Tries to Fix Things

**Chapter 5: The One Where Joey Tries to Fix Things**  

Joey can’t sleep, too busy agonizing over the total dick move he pulled on Chandler tonight. He makes the worst decisions sometimes, and he totally gets why Chandler’s so angry with him. Chandler’s not gay—at the most he’s probably, like, half-gay—and Joey didn’t think the joke would backfire like that. He didn’t mean to freak the girl out; it was mostly meant to tease Chandler and make him squirm.

            He knows it isn’t fair to expect Chandler to drop everything and hang out with him. But this is the first time he’s had a roommate, and maybe he’s gotten used to Chandler’s bad luck with women and just figures he’ll be around all the time. Joey didn’t mind so much with Janice, because even Chandler knew that woman is teeth-grindingly obnoxious. But a chick who doesn’t have a voice like a foghorn? Joey’d have some serious competition there.

            And, okay, _maybe_ Joey got a little jealous thinking about Chandler kissing and touching someone else the way they’ve been doing over the past week or so. And maybe he just wanted it to stop. He’s not proud of it, but at least he’s admitting it...in his head.

            Joey knows he screwed up, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He doesn’t think Chandler’s on speaking terms with him, so apologizing over breakfast probably isn’t going to work. This is going to require a second opinion. He gets out of bed early—for him, at least—and finds Phoebe and Ross at Central Perk. He’d really rather not let Ross into this debacle, because Ross has the tendency to make fun of him, but Joey’s just going to have to deal with that.

            “Hey, Pheebs.”

            Phoebe whirls around at the sound of Joey’s voice. “Joseph Francis Tribbiani, I am so angry with you right now!”

            “Aw, c’mon, not you too!” Joey whines, collapsing on the couch in the space next to her. “I need your help!”

            “What did you do?” Ross asks him.

            “I got Chandler a date with one of my friends,” Phoebe explains, “and Joey just had to butt in and ruin it.” She looks over at him and snaps, “Get your own women!”

            Joey sighs. “I know, Pheebs, I’m sorry. I screwed up. But you gotta help me make it up to Chandler.”

            Phoebe just folds her arms over her chest and frowns at him like he’s the cause of everything wrong in the world.

            “Maybe I can help,” Ross offers. “How’d you ruin his date?”

            “I might’ve...said some things that weren’t true,” Joey admits.

            “Tell him exactly what you said,” Phoebe demands.

            Joey rubs the back of his neck. “Chandler brought his date home last night, and, as a joke, I told her he was gay.”

            Ross looks at him in disbelief for a moment, then starts laughing. “What?”

            “Because you wanted to date her yourself!” Phoebe snaps at Joey.

            “What? No, I don’t! I mean, yeah, she’s hot, but that’s not why I said it.”

            “Then why’d you hit on her with your whole ‘how you doin’?’ thing?”

             “She told you about that?” he asks, more amused than annoyed.

            Ross tries to steer the conversation back where it belongs. “So, wait, you told her that Chandler was gay, and what happened?”

            “She left, obviously. Why stick around, y’know?”

            “If you didn’t wanna go out with her, why’d you tell her Chandler was gay?” Ross asks. There’s the million-dollar question.

            Joey doesn’t think he can get away with an “I don’t know,” so he tries to explain himself the best he can. “Well, I didn’t think she’d actually believe me!”

            “Really? I thought Chandler was gay when I first met him,” Phoebe says.

            Ross sort of shrugs in silent agreement.

            “Plus, he sorta blew me off when I asked him if he wanted to go to the game last night,” Joey continues, “and when he came home from their first date he was all nervous about kissin’ her, wonderin’ if he did it right or not. I just...I dunno, I didn’t think she was right for ‘im.”

            “Honey, you gotta let Chandler figure that out for himself,” Phoebe tells him.

            “I know, but it sucks watchin’ him get dumped over and over.”

            Ross snickers. “Don’t worry, Josephine, I’m sure he’ll ask you to prom.”

            Joey was absolutely prepared for this sort of teasing, but he still goes bright red and pushes a hand through his hair. “C’mon, don’t you feel a little upset when some guy treats Rachel like crap?”

            Ross just gives him a look communicating that he thinks Joey’s an idiot.

            “Well, what about Monica?” Joey stammers. “Don’t you get mad when a guy breaks her heart or stands her up? Pheebs is like _my_ sister—”

            Phoebe grins with no trace of frustration and puts an arm around him. “Aw, thank you, Joey!”

            “You think I won’t have somethin’ to say if a guy treats her bad?”

            Ross makes a face like he’s grudgingly okay with Joey’s argument. “If it bothers you that much, why don’t you just talk to this girl and tell her the truth? Maybe she’ll go out with him again.”

            Joey thinks about that; he’s sort of surprised he hadn’t considered it, but it’s early and he doesn’t do his best thinking in the morning. “You think that would work?” he asks Phoebe.

            She shrugs. “I guess it’s worth a shot.”

# 

Chandler inches open the door to Monica’s apartment and peers inside. She’s cooking something on the stovetop, and he can smell something sweet and buttery.

            Monica notices the door is ajar. “Can I help you?”

            “Is Joey here?” he asks in a low voice through the opening.

            “No, why?”

            He swings the door open dramatically and lets himself inside. “Well, then let me tell you about _my_ day!”

            Monica takes a wild guess. “Are you and Joey not speaking to each other?”

            “No, we’re not, and I don’t think you should speak to him either, because he might be possessed by Satan!”

            Monica’s almost completely immune to Chandler’s theatrics by now. Almost. “What did he do?”

            Chandler pulls up a chair at the table and practically falls into it. “I brought a date home last night, and it was going”—he literally grasps for the word—“amazing is almost too mundane to describe it. I am about two seconds away from getting laid when Joey decides to play a little game called ‘how can I ruin Chandler’s life today?’ He lies and tells the girl that I’m gay.”

            Monica pats him on the shoulder and sets a plate full of warm waffles in front of him. “And she thought he was serious?”

            “The one time he’s a good actor! She left and said she’d rather be with a man who can please a woman.” He has some sort of angry spasm. “I was literally just about to do that!” Chandler slumps in his chair and gives into the temptation of delicious waffles; it’s either eat or smoke, and he has no doubt Monica would put the cigarette out in his eye.

            Rachel’s voice sounds from one of the bedrooms as she comes out into the living room. “I just had this horrible dream that Chandler was complaining about something and—” She stops, sees him sitting there at the kitchen table. “Oh God, the nightmare continues.”

            Chandler glares at her.

            “What happened this time?” Rachel says, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

            “Ask Monica,” Chandler answers around a mouthful of waffles and syrup.

            “Chandler brought a date home last night, and Joey told her that Chandler was gay and scared her off.”

            “See, Chandler? That’s how you tell a story.”

            He just keeps glaring and chews angrily. “I don’t understand why Joey’s suddenly decided to ruin everything good in my life. It’s like his New Year’s resolution was ‘make Chandler miserable and sexually frustrated.’” That’s so close to the truth he’s amazed he actually said it out loud.

            “Did he tell you why he did it?” Monica asks.

            “He did it as a joke, he thought she wasn’t right for me, he didn’t want a girlfriend monopolizing my time... He gave me three explanations and all of them were terrible!” Chandler stabs his fork into the waffles for emphasis.

            Rachel asks him, “So did you try to explain it to her?”

            “Well, no, I—I chose to yell at Joey instead of doing that.” Chandler frowns. “In retrospect, I chose poorly.” He looks up from his plate. “Why am I allowed to make decisions?”

            “So just call her and tell her the truth: that your roommate has a weird sense of humor,” Monica says plainly, like she never has relationship troubles ever and is oh-so-levelheaded. Chandler may be feeling a little bitter right now, because Monica doesn’t have problems like this; Rachel would never say Monica was a lesbian to screw her out of a date unless some serious betrayal was committed.

            Could Chandler have somehow betrayed Joey? He can’t think of how, unless Joey’s mad that Chandler turned down his offer to go to the game. Which, really, is Joey’s own fault, because he knew Chandler already had plans.

            “Or you could show up at her apartment or work or whatever,” Rachel suggests.

            “That wouldn’t be unintentionally creepy?” Chandler doesn’t have Joey’s good looks or charm, so he’s really got to be careful about this kind of thing.

            “You’re just trying to explain yourself. It’s not like you’re showing up for no reason. And sometimes it’s easier to communicate in person.” Rachel thinks for a moment. “She didn’t say anything like ‘I never want to see you again,’ right?”

            Chandler shakes his head.

            “C’mon, Chandler, you’re not exactly physically threatening,” Monica reminds him. “I could snap you like a twig.”

            “Because you’re freakishly strong!” He finishes the waffles and pushes away from the table. “You’re right. I’m not gonna let Joey screw this up for me. If anyone’s gonna ruin my relationships, it’s gonna be me!”

            “Go get ‘em, tiger,” Rachel says with minimal enthusiasm.

            Chandler opts to walk the few blocks to Abby’s apartment. On the way, he thinks about how he might explain himself, because even though he’s going with the truth he still needs to make it sound a little less ridiculous. Chandler’s good with words in his head, but when he opens his mouth it all goes to hell.

            He doesn’t see the impending disaster until it’s too late. From afar, the guy standing at her doorstep could have been any stranger, and Chandler would have been reluctantly okay with that and walked away. But he’s glancing off here and there, so when he finally sees who’s talking to Abby, the wet rag of humiliation and fury slaps him in the face.

            Why is Joey standing there?

            Joey should absolutely not be visiting her.

            Why does Joey hate Chandler’s happiness?

            “Joey!” he calls, trying to keep the rage out of his voice as he storms up to him.

            “Oh, hey, Chandler! I was just clearin’ up with Abby why I acted like an idiot last night.”

            “Really? Because from where I’m standing it looks like your little ‘steal Chandler’s potential girlfriend’ plan is going swimmingly!”

            Joey furrows his brow in confusion. “Well, maybe you ought’a be standin’ somewhere else then.”

            “That doesn’t even make any sense!”

            Abby looks from Joey to Chandler then back to Joey. “Why are you guys here?” They immediately start talking at once. She holds up a hand to shut them up. “One at a time.”

            Joey goes first. “I was tryin’ to tell you that Chandler’s not really gay. I was just tryin’ to mess with him, and I took it too far. I’m sorry. Don’t not go out with him ‘cause of what I said.”

            Chandler isn’t sure if Joey’s being sincere or totally full of crap. “Well, yeah, I wanted to say that Joey was just making a joke, and that I’m sorry for acting like an ass.”

            She looks at him for a moment. “Chandler, you’re a great guy, but I don’t wanna fight over you with your roommate.” She inches the door closed. “Have fun, you two.”

# 

Chandler burns through almost an entire pack of cigarettes over the course of the day, mostly during his lunch break. He knows it’s an awful habit, and he’s been smoke-free for a while now, but the stress of his roommate being a life-ruining moron is starting to take its toll on him. He’s developed a talent for smoking at work that’s really come in handy today.

            He hates Joey.

            Joey is dead to him.

            He wonders if Ross would make a better roommate. Ross would probably want to redecorate with fossils and dinosaur crap though, and Chandler is not about to have that.

            He storms straight home after work, fully prepared to elevate the silent treatment into an art form. Chandler gets inside to see Joey standing in the living room with a pleading expression on his face.

            “Chandler, look, just let me—” Chandler ignores him and keeps walking, at least until Joey lays a palm flat over Chandler’s stomach to pause his stride. Chandler feels a jolt at the touch. “Look, I know you’re mad, and I’m really sorry. I just got a little jealous.”

            “Of me?” Chandler asks, because he’s positive there isn’t even an alternate universe where anyone is jealous of him, much less Joey.

            “Well, sorta.” Joey looks away, cracks his knuckles, and Chandler tries not to cringe at the sound. “I mean, I really wanted to, y’know, fool around last night, but then here comes somebody else takin’ your attention away.” He shrugs dismissively, and it makes him look about twelve years old. “I like spendin’ time with you. I like that _you_ like it. You’re my best friend...”

            Chandler doesn’t like himself very much right now. Joey’s always had the best intentions, but Chandler just keeps misinterpreting and reading it all through his warped lens of how people work. Joey’s never hurt him on purpose. Joey is warm and giving and makes everything feel so easy.

            Chandler sighs, and it’s as if all the anger deflates out of him. It might actually be impossible to stay mad at Joey for too long; he must have some kind of superpower. “I’m sorry too.”

            Joey smiles that stupid grin that makes Chandler feel way too attached to him. They hug for about two seconds before Joey’s politely pushing him away. “Dude, you smell like an ashtray. Go take a shower or somethin’.”


	6. The One Where Joey and Chandler Take a Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place between events in 1x12

**Chapter 6: The One Where Joey and Chandler Take a Break**  

It’s two a.m., and Joey’s sitting in the armchair with Chandler in his lap, their mouths latched while Joey jerks him off. Joey can taste the faint edge of tobacco, and the lingering flavor keeps his tongue from wandering. Chandler’s backlit by the luminescence of the TV screen, his fingers weaving through Joey’s hair while Joey’s hand works inside Chandler’s sweatpants. The chair is criminally small, and Chandler has his knees squished on either side of Joey’s thighs.

            “You keep smokin’ like that and you’re gonna lose your kissin’ privileges,” Joey tells him in his serious voice. Chandler’s shoulders quake when Joey twists his wrist around the shaft of his cock.

            “I’m sorry, I was stressed,” Chandler mutters, struggling to keep his voice even. “Which, by the way, thanks for that.” He nudges his hips into Joey’s hand, and Joey grips him tighter around the hilt. Chandler winces, bites his lip a little; Joey smiles at the reaction. Tonight is their third time doing this—whatever it is—and Chandler’s more sensitive this time around. Every slight stroke and squeeze makes him react like he’s never been touched like this by anyone else. Joey ventures a wild guess that he hasn’t—Chandler isn’t exactly popular with the ladies, though Joey can’t understand why; he’s really cute, he’s got a smart-ass answer for everything, and, sure, his interactions with the opposite sex can be hilariously bad, but Chandler is genuine and giving to a fault. That kind of thing goes a long way.

            Chandler drags out a moan when Joey’s thumb rubs over the head of his swollen cock. He sighs, “God, Joe,” then his body tenses like he’s going to come, his hands around the top of the chair, fingers digging into the leather. Chandler’s face goes through a complicated mix of emotions, and Joey can’t read them all. But Chandler doesn’t come. Instead, he blows out an angry breath through his nose and climbs out of Joey’s lap. Joey stares at him while Chandler hitches his pants up and over his hips in a rough, jerky movement.

            “Did I do somethin’ wrong?” Joey has no idea how he could’ve messed this up. Sex is supposed to be the easy part—at least, it’s always been that way for him.

            Chandler sighs, scrubs a hand through his hair while he paces nervously. “No, Joe, it’s not you—it’s not... I just can’t do this, okay?”

            The pieces of the puzzle click together in Joey’s head. “Oh! Well, hey, it’s not a big deal. Happens to the best of us.” He spreads his hands as if to say “even me.”

            Chandler looks so tragically frustrated with him. He shakes his head and says, “Just forget it.”

            Chandler shuts himself in his bedroom before Joey can answer, leaving him alone in the armchair wondering what the hell went wrong.

# 

By the time Joey wakes up Chandler is gone, so he doesn’t get the chance to actually talk and work this out. Joey still doesn’t know what he did wrong. He doesn’t even think he _said_ anything wrong, unless Chandler got upset over Joey’s anti-smoking jabs. It’s not unbelievable Chandler might be sensitive about quitting smoking or the idea that people might not want to kiss him if his mouth tastes like an ashtray. So, yeah, Chandler could totally be upset about that.

            So then why didn’t he just say that? How hard would it be for Chandler to say, “hey, I’m really sensitive about this?” Instead he just pulls away from Joey like he doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

            But Joey’s first thought was that it isn’t so complicated. Maybe Chandler just couldn’t perform. But he can’t understand why that would be a sensitive issue for them; they know that kind of thing happens sometimes. It’s not like Chandler was on a date with a Victoria’s Secret model—just a lazy handjob with his buddy Joey.

            He really wishes he could talk to Phoebe about this, but he doesn’t know what he would say. At least the last time he fucked up he knew exactly what the problem was. This time, Chandler’s given him nothing but angry glares and silence.

            That afternoon, Joey’s with Ross at the girls’ apartment helping Monica in the kitchen. He has no idea why she needs to bake twelve lasagnas; he might go so far as to say there’s way too many lasagnas here. Joey hates how this _thing_ with Chandler is fucking with his brain—Joey Tribbiani has never once believed in a concept like “too much lasagna.”

            “So, Mon’,” he says, “are you just really hungry, or...?”

            “I’m doing a favor for my Aunt Syl,” she answers, handing him a tray to put in the oven.

            “Is _she_ really hungry?”

            “Hey, Joey,” Ross calls from the couch, his nose in a book, “what do you think of the name Samuel?”

            He mulls it over. “I think I’m gonna stick with Joey.”

            Monica whacks Joey’s arm with a potholder. “He’s trying to pick out a name for the baby.”

            “Oh, right, yeah!” He forgets that Ross is going to be a father, because he doesn’t see Carol that much, and there’s that whole lesbian thing that his brain takes in a whole different direction. Joey’s mind can be a fun—albeit confusing—place sometimes.

            Chandler stops by a little later while they’re discussing baby names. “Hey guys, what’s—” He takes one look at Joey, and a guilty expression forms on his face. “I should come back later.” Chandler scurries to the door, but Monica leaves the kitchen to rush over to him.

            “C’mon, you two, this is ridiculous! You guys are best friends!” She pushes Chandler to the kitchen table and practically forces him into a chair. “Will you just work this out already?”

            Chandler’s mouth drops open, and he stares at Joey in disbelief. “You told her?”

            Monica gives him a curious look. “ _You_ told me, Chandler.”

            Joey quickly realizes two things: Monica assumes they’re still feuding over the whole Abby debacle, and that Chandler talked about it with Monica. He’s not exactly sure how he feels about the latter.

           One thing Joey _is_ sure about: pretending that they’re still fighting over Abby is in their best interest right now. There’s no way to frame what happened last night as anything other than questionable.

            Monica puts a hand on Chandler’s shoulder. Joey wonders if it’s easy for her, as easy as breathing, or if her throat gets locked up all thick and confused when she touches him. “Just tell Joey what’s wrong and how he can fix it.”

            Joey nods in agreement. “Yeah, tell Joey!”

            Chandler pushes a hand through his hair, nervous under the attention. “Look, it’s not even a thing anymore, okay? Just forget it.”

            “You’re the one who’s makin’ it a thing,” Joey insists. “Yeah, maybe I made a joke that went too far or did somethin’ stupid, and I’m sorry, but you don’t have to freak out and leave me worryin’ about what I did wrong. You have to talk to me ‘cause I’m not a mind-reader.”

            Chandler’s whole face winces before he stands up and moves in the direction of the door. “Joey, I’d really rather have this conversation in private.” Joey follows him into their apartment where Chandler paces the floor like a caged tiger.

            “Are you embarrassed ‘cause you couldn’t”—Joey doesn’t mean to point in the direction of Chandler’s crotch, but it happens anyway—“y’know?”

            “No, I could, and that’s...” Chandler takes a breath, starts over. “We can’t keep doing this.”

            “I know, you gotta talk to me.”

            “No, I mean... _this_. This whole hooking up thing we’re doing. It’s too much,” Chandler says, suddenly tired, like they’ve had this conversation before, but the way Joey feels like he’s just been punched in the gut is entirely new.

            Joey swallows thickly, prays that he misunderstood. “You seemed cool with it before.”

            “Well, I’m not now, okay?” Chandler doesn’t look like he’s enjoying this conversation, and Joey tries to take solace in that, but it’s so damn hard when Chandler’s basically admitting that he doesn’t want him anymore. “So, if we could just go back to the way we used to be, before all the touching and kissing and confused orgasms, that would be great.”

            “If—if that’s what you want, yeah.”

            Something flickers over Chandler’s face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. “Look, Joe, this isn’t about you or anything you did. I promise.” He looks like he wants to say more but doesn’t. Then he’s just gone, locked away in his bedroom.

            Joey stands there for a minute, trying to remember how to breathe properly. This has never happened to him before. He’s argued with Chandler over money, girls, the best sandwich meats. Joey knows what it’s like when they fight, how the air around them feels heavy but quickly peters out, then they’re back to watching _Baywatch_ reruns and lounging at Central Perk.

            But this feels different. For the past two days, talking to Chandler has been like navigating a minefield, and Joey’s attempts to fix whatever he’s broken just seem to make it all worse. The air between them is thick with tension, rigged to blow at the slightest prickle of emotion.

            He goes across the hall to let Monica and Ross distract him and lift his spirits. It doesn’t fix things, but it’s a start. Monica even lets him have a whole lasagna to himself.


	7. The One With the Sleepover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place between events in 1x13

**Chapter 7: The One With the Sleepover**

Chandler loathes Phoebe’s new boyfriend. He really, really does. He’s sure the guy has some good qualities—maybe if you squint—but he’s a shrink. And shrinks _know_ things. They can smell emotional issues a mile away, like how sharks can smell a drop of blood in the ocean. So, yeah, shrinks are like sharks. Chandler’s not entirely sure where he was going with that train of thought, so he’s just going to get off the tracks now before it takes him to an even weirder place.

            They’re gathered at the girls’ apartment, and Roger—what a douchey name, Chandler thinks—is psychoanalyzing Ross’ failed marriage. With the recent news of Joey’s father’s affair, all of this is veering dangerously into “things Chandler doesn’t talk about” territory. All that’s missing is the topic of repressed homosexuality, then the uncomfortable triumvirate of Chandler Bing will be complete. At least he got to see Rachel’s breasts the other day, so not a total loss.

            “Why would I marry her if I thought on any level that she was a lesbian?” Ross demands. Chandler dreads where this is going. He really shouldn’t be sitting so close. It’s like he’s implying that he wants to be next in this psychological experiment.

            Roger shrugs, says, “Maybe you wanted your marriage to fail.”

            Chandler takes that as his cue to detach from the conversation. He gravitates to Joey, who’s sitting near the window on the other side of the room.

            “So how come you don’t like Rog’?” Joey asks. He actually called him _Rog’_. There is no God.

            “C’mon, he’s so phony. Why would anybody deliberately sabotage a relationship?” Chandler can get away with that question around Joey, but Roger would’ve heard the implications there like a shark that smells blood. And there’s that shark metaphor again; maybe Chandler was a shark in a past life or, knowing his luck, eaten by one—he makes a mental note to ask Phoebe about that.

            “That’s ridiculous! I don’t feel guilty for her failures!” Ross shouts, pointing at Monica.

            “See? Even Ross thinks the guy’s a quack,” Chandler says to Joey.

            Joey shrugs. “I dunno, Chandler. He was sorta right about you.”

            Chandler whirls to face him, because Joey _did not_ just say that. “What?”

            Joey appears oblivious to Chandler’s fury. “Yeah, I mean, he knew you were an only child and that your parents got divorced when you were a kid.” He digs out a spoonful of peanut butter from the jar he’s holding. Chandler glares daggers at him. Joey sort of shrinks beneath his gaze. “I’m just sayin’, maybe he’s not wrong all the time.”

            Chandler scoffs. “That doesn’t mean anything. Phoebe could’ve told him that stuff. And the divorce rate in this country gives him a fifty-fifty chance at guessing right. Technically, he gets those odds on the only child question too. I either have siblings or I don’t.”

            Joey makes a face that Chandler thinks has way too much sass. “I’m gonna go check on Dad, y’know, keep an eye on him.” Chandler watches Joey leave, his gaze lingering until the door closes. He really needs to work on not being a total dick, especially to Joey. It’s not Joey’s fault Chandler has an unattainable, life-ruining crush on him. But Chandler’s absolutely going to hold him accountable for that, because when Joey looks like Joey the least he can do is be an asshole so the attraction is only aesthetic. But no, he has to go and be a good person too. Jerk.

            Ross is having some sibling rivalry argument with Monica when Roger approaches Chandler in what he probably hopes is a casual, “not psychoanalyzing you at all” way. Chandler just mouth-glares at him. “Clearly, there’s some tension between you two,” Roger notices. “Something to do with his father’s situation?”

            “None of your business,” Chandler says without too much murder behind it.

            “I’m just observing. I noticed that his body language was relaxed until you came to sit with him, then it turned defensive and closed off. Quite like the way you’re sitting now.” Chandler frowns harder, resists the reflex to sit a different way. “I also noticed how you look at him when you think he’s not watching. He does the same to you when you look away.”

            Chandler bristles at that. “I don’t have to pay for this session, do I?” It’s cruel for Roger to dangle that false hope in Chandler’s face, because with something like this he’ll cling to it like a life raft.

            Roger chuckles. “Deflecting with humor. A textbook defense mechanism. Y’know, it’s not unusual to be in love with your best friend. It happens to a lot of people.”

            Chandler feels mortally wounded, the words stabbing into his side like a hot blade. “Didn’t Tom Jones write a song about things that aren’t unusual?” He needs to stop talking, because he’s only providing more fuel for the fire; Roger can tell where Chandler’s weak spots are just by the way he reacts. Chandler feels another shark metaphor coming on.

            “Take this with a grain of salt, but you’ll be much happier if you don’t bury how you feel.”

            “Thanks, but I’m on a low-sodium diet.”

#

Chandler isn’t sure how they ended up like this, because when he thinks about sleeping with Joey it’s definitely not taking place on an uncomfortable couch. And in his fantasies there isn’t much sleeping. But here they are, sprawled out on the fold-out couch in the living room. Well, Joey’s sprawled out. Chandler’s curled into himself to take up as little space in their makeshift bed as possible. This might be actual torture; Joey’s got his face nuzzled in Chandler’s neck and one of his hands curled over Chandler’s stomach. That hand is dangerously close to cock proximity. 

            How the hell did Chandler manage to sleep through this? He isn’t used to sharing his bed, so maybe the touch of another human jolted him awake. He really wants to know how this happened. Joey is practically cuddling with him. Is this something Joey’s body just...does? Just clings to whatever warm body is next to him? It makes sense, but why? Why does this have to happen to Chandler, who desperately wants to put distance between them to get over this stupid, weird crush? It’s not like he’s the only one nursing an attraction to Joey—Chandler’s assumed everyone that’s ever met Joey developed a crush on him (because, hello, look at him)—but this is ridiculous.

            Would it actually be so bad if Chandler really _is_ in love with Joey?

            Joey stirs in his sleep, and his hand shifts over Chandler’s lower stomach, fingers just grazing his erection. Oh no. This is the opposite of what he wants.

            Chandler holds his breath, risks a glance at Joey, who’s dead asleep and breathing occasional quiet snores into the juncture of Chandler’s neck and shoulder. The last time they were this close they were kissing, and Joey’s fingers were wrapped around Chandler’s dick. His hips unconsciously nudge into Joey’s hand at the memory.

            No, no. Stop. Stop it now.

            Chandler freezes, forces himself to stay statue-still and thinks about something that definitely won’t turn him on: whether or not he’s in love with Joey. Because that’s guaranteed to terrify him beyond all reason.

            So maybe he’s never been in love before, but he knows he’s obsessively nitpicky. He’s refused a second date over too-big nostrils, height differences, even whether or not the girl could pronounce “supposedly”—because “supposably” is absolutely not a word, and anyone that argues otherwise is a lying liar who lies; Chandler will fight about it.

            But he’s never had those overly-critical moments with Joey, never seen any of his less-than-hygenic habits or possible shortcomings as a deal-breaker. Sure, Joey may be a little dim-witted, but he makes up for it by having a huge heart. Heart. Yes, heart is definitely where Chandler was going with that sentence.

            Now he’s getting back into boner territory. This isn’t helping. He ought to just wake Joey up and say, “Hey, get your hands away from my dick.” But, truth be told, he’s kind of enjoying it. And that’s what makes him want to pull away, what makes him feel sick in the pit of his stomach: the fact that he _likes_ it. And he wants Joey to like him, too. All the kissing and touching they’ve shared over the past few weeks likely means nothing more to Joey than just physical release. But for Chandler...

            His heart plummets sickeningly. This was why he’d made them stop, because Joey will never see him the way Chandler wishes he would. How could Chandler ever hope to rival the beautiful women Joey brings home on dates? He’s not a beautiful woman, he’s socially awkward to the point of just being pathetic, and he can barely control his own limbs when he has an opinion about something. Not the most attractive traits in a potential partner.

            And now he’s depressed. At least that takes care of the whole awkward erection problem.

            Joey groans in his sleep, moving restlessly, and shoves his hand over Chandler’s t-shirt so it’s resting flat over his chest and the thump of his heart. This is better, yet so much worse. But Chandler decides to just enjoy it while it lasts and turns his head so his nose is buried in the fluff of Joey’s hair. He closes his eyes and breathes him in, letting this feeling—whatever it is—settle into every portion of himself.

# 

The next time Chandler wakes up it’s morning, and he’s mostly sprawled on top of Joey. This is a pretty incriminating position; their legs are tangled together, for God’s sake. Joey’s got an arm draped over Chandler, his hand resting on his hip. Chandler can hear the faint throb of Joey’s heartbeat under his ear. He has a moment of panic to hope that he didn’t drool all over him in the night. Because that’s just the kind of thing that would happen to Chandler.

            He stays motionless, wonders if pretending to be asleep would be the best option. But they have guests in the bedrooms, guests who might have something to say about the way they’re tangled up together. So the whole pretending to be asleep thing might not be a great plan. If Joey’s awake he’s being pretty cool about this, considering that they’re practically snuggling.

            Chandler swallows, and he instantly worries that the subtle movement of his throat is going to wake up Joey. He waits a moment before loosening his grip on Joey’s t-shirt.

            “Well, g’morning to you too,” Joey says, sleepy. Chandler yelps, his limbs flailing in a desperate attempt to put as much distance between himself and Joey as possible. He gets as far as the other side of the couch before his back hits the armrest. Joey’s chuckling at him now. “Never had that reaction before.”

            Chandler sits up, pushes a hand through his hair. “God, I’m sorry. I think my body just...does things while I’m asleep, which sounds way worse than it actually is, but—”

            “Chandler, it’s alright,” Joey interrupts with a grin. “I don’t care. I’m just glad it wasn’t me this time.” He pulls himself to a sit, then his smile widens when he looks at Chandler again. “Your hair is ridiculous, by the way.” Chandler tries to fix it, but Joey’s still grinning at him, so his hair probably isn’t any better. “Relax, I like it,” Joey tells him as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. Chandler’s heart starts beating dizzyingly fast. Before he can find an adequate response to that, Joey stands up and says, “You want breakfast?”


	8. The One With Joey's Birthday

**Chapter 8: The One With Joey’s Birthday**

“So, what should we do for Joey’s birthday?” Phoebe asks at Central Perk while Joey’s at an audition. “I was thinking we could have a big surprise party at Monica’s”—this seems to be the first time Monica’s hearing about this—“‘cause Joey’s gonna expect something at his place, y’know, but then he’ll get home and be like ‘Oh, okay,’ so then when he goes to Monica’s for a sandwich or something: surprise!”

            “Also, it’s hard to plan a surprise party for someone who doesn’t have a steady job,” Chandler adds. “How can you surprise him? He’s home all the time.” There’s a bitter edge to it, because Chandler’s sick of not having any time to himself. Joey’s always there, wanting to hang out with him and poking at the raw wound of Chandler’s ridiculous crush with just his mere existence. Not that Joey knows about the crush, but, still—Joey’s constantly around, and that’s a big impediment for the whole healing process.

            “Chandler, do you think you can keep Joey occupied for the next couple of days while we get everything planned?” Monica asks him.

            Chandler must have done something awful in a past life.

            “Ooh! I still have to go shopping for his present!” Phoebe announces.

            “I took care of that early and squared away some season Knicks tickets for him,” Ross says proudly.

            Phoebe scowls at him. “Well, aren’t you Mr. Early Bird?” She turns to Chandler. “Chandler, what about you?”

            “Uh, I—I haven’t really—”

            “Great, you can come with me!” She’s grabbing his hand and pulling him along as she skips out the door.

# 

“So I was wondering if I should make my Best Oatmeal Cookies In the World recipe or my grandma’s secret chocolate chip cookies.”

            “It’s Joey. Make both.”

            They’re browsing through a nearby outlet store, and Phoebe’s sifting through the racks of clothing in the men’s department. Chandler has a feeling this is going to take forever. He doesn’t even know what Joey wants, aside from a lifetime supply of sandwiches, and Chandler has no idea how to go about procuring that. He doesn’t want to get Joey just any old thing; he wants this gift to be special.

            “Hey, Pheebs, how are you and”—Chandler cringes—“ _Rog_ ’ doing?”

            “Oh, we broke up,” she says casually.

            “Really? How come?”

            “Well, he was kind of obnoxious, and I didn’t wanna date somebody that my friends hated.”

            “We didn’t hate him,” Chandler says, trying to find a nicer word. “We just...” He can’t find one. “Yeah, we did. I’m sorry, Pheebs.”

            “No, it’s totally okay! I’m glad you guys were honest with me. What did you hate about him?”

            “He was way too analytical,” Chandler explains, and Phoebe nods like she knows what he’s talking about. “And most of the time it seemed like he was just bullshitting. He said Ross purposely sabotaged his marriage, and that I was in love with Joey!” He scoffs to hide the way his voice wavers around the words. “I mean, c’mon!”

            “Right, the gay thing.” Phoebe shrugs. “Well, hey, if it makes you feel any better, everybody else was wrong about that too. Not just him.”

            It doesn’t make him feel better, because he’s not entirely sure they _were_ wrong.

            “Ooh!” Phoebe shoves some hangers aside and pulls out a gaudy silver jacket. “This is perfect!”

            Chandler’s horrified that this is a thing that exists. This jacket does not belong in the closet of anyone who isn’t Michael Jackson. “Yeah, for a Solid Gold dancer!”

            “When Joey was a kid, he had an imaginary friend named Maurice who was a space cowboy,” Phoebe explains, sort of shoving the jacket at him. Chandler backs away like it might infect him with its poor fashion sense. “He’d love this!”

            “Pheebs, that had to be at least twenty years ago. I’m sure Joey’s sense of style has changed since then.”

            Phoebe just gives him a look. “It’s Joey.”

            She’s got a point. Chandler remembers that Joey has a god-awful hat with moose ears somewhere in the apartment.

            They migrate to the second-floor jewelry section, but Chandler’s reluctant to entertain buying anything here. Jewelry says too much. It’s expensive and serves no real function. A big-screen TV or a video game system, while pricey, at least _does_ something instead of just being a fancy accessory. Chandler would totally spring for a new, huge television if he didn’t think that might encourage Joey to stay home more.

            “You haven’t found one thing you like?” Phoebe asks in disbelief, carrying an armful of items. “Joey’s not that hard to shop for, Chandler. God, look at all this crap I picked out!”

            “Crap, indeed,” he mumbles. Chandler’s looking for something that strikes a delicate balance between being too much—because he kind of wants to say “I might sort of like you as more than a friend, maybe” with an expensive gift—and being a casual present from a friend. There isn’t an aisle for that kind of stuff, is there? If there is, Ross’s gift for Rachel’s birthday is a no-brainer.

            “Well, y’know, Joey’s birthday isn’t for a couple days,” Phoebe says. “You don’t have to decide now.”

            It might be a good idea to subtly drop hints to Joey about what he might want for his birthday. At least then Chandler wouldn’t have to guess, because he’s terrible at guessing things like this. He has enough stress in his life; he doesn’t need to worry over whether or not he picked out a good gift. Might as well just be _told_ what Joey wants.

            When Chandler gets home, Joey’s eating out of a pizza box on the kitchen counter, and the dining table’s in pieces in the corner. Chandler looks at the battered remains of the table, then looks at Joey, then back to the table. “What happened?”

            “Table broke,” Joey says with his mouth full.

            “I see that.” Joey doesn’t seem to be very concerned about the lack of a proper eating surface. “This doesn’t bother you at all?”

            Joey shrugs. “Not really. We can just get a new one.”

            “We? Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re the one who was home all day. It was fine when I left this morning!”

            Joey frowns at him. “It was yours anyway!”

            “So just because it was my table, I have to buy a new one?”

            “That’s the rule.”

            “What rule? There’s no rule! If anything, you owe me a new table!”

            Joey huffs in annoyance.  Chandler gives up trying to reason with him and snags a slice of pizza.

# 

They end up with a foosball table in their apartment the next evening. Chandler’s still not entirely sure how that happened. He wanted to get a new table after work, but ended up taking Joey along to prevent him from finding out about the party plans. Chandler didn’t see anything practical enough, and Joey kept pointing out things with gaudy patterns. Then Joey discovered the foosball table, and Chandler got that rare, all-encompassing feeling of finding the perfect gift. He managed to distract Joey long enough to get the stupid thing delivered to the apartment, and here they are.

            “You know my birthday’s not for, like, three days, right?” Joey asks during the beer-break lull between games.

            “Yeah, well, I thought I’d do something nice for you.”

            Joey grins and pulls Chandler into a one-armed hug. “Aw, thanks.”

            “And now you’re making me regret it.”

            There’s a modicum of hurt on Joey’s face before he chuckles weakly. “Sorry.”

            It turns out that keeping Joey occupied over the next three days ought to be a full-time job. In between sparse auditions, Joey’s got plenty of time to waste, and it’s up to Chandler to find a way for Joey to use that time away from the apartment. It is so much harder than it sounds. Chandler thinks this might be a glimpse at what being a parent is like.

            His first evening keeping Joey busy takes them out to dinner. Joey talks about his latest callback and his upcoming date tomorrow night with the hot casting director—which totally isn’t a method of bribery, Joey insisted. Chandler just lets him talk, because Joey gets sort of flaily and excited when he talks about things, and Chandler finds it pretty endearing.

            “So what’s this about anyway?” Joey asks around a mouthful of meatball sub. “I mean, we don’t usually go out to eat, y’know?”

            Chandler shrugs, trying casual. “It’s nice to get out sometimes.”

            Joey thinks about that over a swig of beer. Then he looks terrified. “Did somethin’ happen? You’re not tryin’ to soften some bad news by buyin’ me food, are you?”

            Chandler is offended to even be asked. “No! Of course not!”

            “Are you tryin’ to get better at dating? Is that what this is? Like some sort of practice run?” Chandler just stares at him. “‘Cause that’s pretty cool! I’m like your dating coach.”

            “That’s not...no! I’m trying to get you out of the house more,” Chandler admits, and it sounds really bad when he phrases it that way.

            Joey scoffs a laugh. “What’re you talkin’ about? I go out all the time. I get dates.” One look at Chandler’s face tells Joey that was the wrong thing to say. “Not that you don’t, I mean, just...yeah, I go out.” Joey tears off a piece of his sub and shoves it into his mouth to stop himself from talking.

            Chandler shrugs in silence, his ego mortally wounded. It’s not like Joey’s trying to hurt him, it just...happens.

            When they’re finished with dinner, they’re outside, and night has fallen. Chandler pulls his coat tighter around him, but Joey seems to be undisturbed by the chill, probably working off of his own body heat. They opt to walk home, because Chandler’s actually enjoying these little moments where they can just _be_.

            “So, uh, you got any dates lined up?” Joey asks innocently while they’re both walking.

            Chandler shakes his head. “I think I’m gonna take a break for a while.” Because he was already such a huge hit with the ladies. “I’m sure my hiatus from the dating scene will break many a heart,” he jokes.

            Joey chuckles along, but there’s an edge that Chandler’s never heard before. He’s in the middle of trying to decode it when Joey exclaims, “Ooh!” and rushes into the darkness of the park on their right. Chandler follows him with cautious steps. This is exactly the kind of lackadaisical bullshit that gets people killed in horror movies.

            “Where are you going?”

            “They got swings!” Joey cries. Chandler can see a huge, empty swingset looming ahead. It would be kind of serene if it wasn’t so goddamn creepy here.

            “Well, this is it,” Chandler muses. “This is how I’m going to die.” He moves a little closer to see Joey excitedly hopping into the seat of one of the bigger swings. “I’ve always wanted to be a leading story on _Hard Copy_!”

            “Aw, c’mon, Chandler, live a little.” Joey’s swinging back and forth already.

            “You know you’re turning twenty-five this year, not five, right?”

            Joey scoffs. “You just don’t know how to like things.”

            Chandler folds his arms over his chest and leans against one of the thick support poles for the swingset. He still refuses to swing. “I like plenty of things!”

            “Like what?”

            “Like...smoking and _Baywatch_ and long walks on the beach.” It’s hard for him to not look at Joey and say “you”; God, he’s pathetic.

            “Is this what it’s like bein’ on a date with you?” Joey asks with a dazzling smile that makes Chandler’s knees weak.

            He looks around for any bloodthirsty serial killers that might be lurking here. “W—well, I usually save the ‘reckless endangerment of our lives’ part for the third date.” Maybe Roger was right; maybe he does use humor as a defense mechanism.

            “You got nothin’ to be scared of! Joey’s here!”

            Chandler takes a moment to admire the scenery instead of grouse about how much he doesn’t want to die tonight. The moon is a pale, bone-white, glowing incandescently amongst the speckle of stars in the sky. Crunchy leaves blow in the intermittent breeze, the cold night air giving every breath a crisp bite. They’re sort of secluded, tucked inside the park away from the bustle of the street, which would be romantic if this was a date.

            Chandler gives in to Joey’s childlike enthusiasm and sits in the empty swing beside him, though he refuses to actually attain locomotion. The wind flows around him each time Joey flies by. Again, Chandler has to wonder if it would be so bad if he was actually in love with him. It might be wonderful. It might be exactly like this, except with joy to replace the parts of himself that ache with open wounds, the parts torn open over and over again by the cleave of heartbreak. Chandler can see himself kissing Joey here, waiting until he slows to a stop before sharing a few-seconds-too-long gaze and pressing his mouth over Joey’s. But that only happens in the movies, and Chandler’s life is not a movie. Well, maybe a horror movie. Or one of those really depressing art films.

            Joey eventually slows, the heels of his boots dragging against the gravel, and he looks over at Chandler expectantly. “Hey, can I ask you somethin’?”

            “Anything.” That came out a little breathier than Chandler wanted it to be.

            “Well, there’s this girl I’m crazy about...”

            It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. “Not the hot casting director?”

            “Nah, somebody else. I like her so much, but...I don’t think she sees me that way, y’know?”

            Chandler lifts an eyebrow. “Joey Tribbiani having trouble with the ladies?”

            He smiles in a way that’s sort of pained. “I guess you could say that.”

            “You know I am amazingly bad at this, right? You must be desperate if you’re taking advice from me.”

            “Yeah, well, I sorta am.” He gets a far-off look in his eyes, staring out at the thicket of trees in front of them. “She’s just...amazing! I’ve never met anyone like her. She makes me laugh, she cheers me up when I’m down, and her eyes!” Joey swoons. “I just wish I could tell her how much I like her.”

            Chandler’s pretty surprised that Joey hasn’t waxed poetic about how hot this girl is—he’s actually kept things pretty classy. He must really like her. Chandler tries not to feel too jealous about that. “Well, why don’t you?”

            “You know how hard it is, Chandler.”

            “Yeah, but that’s me. If I didn’t have trouble talking to women, the universe would implode. But you...”

            Joey shrugs weakly. “That’s the thing, though. I shouldn’t have any trouble talkin’ to her about this ‘cause we’re, like, best friends.”

            Chandler mentally flips through a list of Joey’s female acquaintances close enough to be deemed “best friends.” He only finds three: Rachel, Phoebe, and Monica. And he’s leaning toward Phoebe.

            “If she says no, do you think you could still be friends?”

            Joey thinks about it for a moment with a distressed look on his face. “I don’t know... Maybe. I hope so. Part of me thinks she’d be really freaked out about it, but then I kinda feel like she might sorta...feel the same way about me.”

            “Maybe you should find out before you say anything,” Chandler offers, because the last thing he wants is for Joey to hurt the same way that he does. “Stuff like this...usually just makes things awkward.”

            Joey looks at him with hopeful eyes, his gaze sliding over Chandler’s face, and Chandler doesn’t have a clue what to do with this. Staring back at this wide-eyed, beautiful human being, he wants nothing more than to be selfish here. But he can’t. If Joey really likes this girl, then Chandler will back out gracefully and let her win. Just this once.

            But, God, he really, really wants to kiss Joey here.

            Joey pats Chandler on the back, then stands up suddenly, as if reading his thoughts. “Thanks, Chandler. I like when we talk about stuff,” he says, his footsteps crunching on gravel before stepping into the grass.

            Chandler watches Joey walk away for a moment before pulling himself up and following him. “Could I _be_ any more pathetic?” he mumbles under his breath.

            “You say somethin’?”

            “N—no, just the wind!”

#

Joey’s starting to get restless; it’s been three days since he’s been over to the girls’ apartment and raided their fridge. Chandler’s been adamant about keeping him busy, which usually involves a lot of going out and doing things. He half-expected Chandler to show up on his date the other night.

            It’s the afternoon of his birthday, and he’s been playing foosball with Chandler for what feels like hours. His hands are starting to get tired. “Chandler, c’mon, can we take a break?” Joey whines. “Let’s go to Monica’s. I smell pizza!”

            Chandler twists one of the blue handles. “No, I have to win my money back!” He’s probably lost about a hundred dollars since they started playing this afternoon. Chandler might have a bit of a gambling problem—or maybe just a “losing money to Joey” problem.

            “It’s not my fault you kept bettin’!” Joey argues, because Chandler can be really ridiculous sometimes. Most of the time. He pushes a hand through his hair and leaves the table.

            “Where are you going?” Chandler asks, his voice panicky as he tries to block Joey’s pathway. “Don’t go!”

            Joey gives him flat eyes. “I’m just gettin’ a beer.” Chandler steps away, chagrined, and Joey reaches into the fridge. He twists open the bottle and takes a drink. “You’re bein’ weird today. What’s up with that?”

            “Aren’t I weird every day?”

            “If I agree with that, are you gonna get mad at me?”

            Chandler makes a face that says he absolutely will.

            “I’m hungry! C’mon, if they got pizza that I don’t get to eat...” He trails off, leaves the threat hanging. Joey is not going to forgive Chandler if he misses out on pizza.

            “Well, we could order one for ourselves!”

            “But they got one in there I could eat now!” Joey argues, gesturing to the door. When in doubt, use logic. Logic works pretty well with Chandler.

            “Joey...” Chandler pleads, but Joey’s already made up his mind. He’s getting some of their food whether Chandler likes it or not. He hasn’t eaten in three hours; that’s like a whole day in people-who-aren’t-Joey time. “What about another game of foosball?”

            “Food first.” Joey takes a few steps in the direction of the front door.

            Chandler scrambles to block the way, his back shoved against the door. “I don’t wanna have to do this, Joe, but you’ve given me no choice. If you want that pizza, you’re gonna have to go through me.” Chandler’s close enough that Joey can smell his cologne or aftershave or whatever he’s wearing that smells good. Then the scent of the food next door wafts over, and Joey has the most confusing boner he’s ever had in his life. All he can think about is how Chandler was pressed up against this door on New Year’s, his mouth latched to Joey’s and his hand around his cock. Joey’s trying to think of a reason not to kiss him right now. He really likes kissing Chandler; it feels different than when he kisses women, like a flutter of nerves and excitement in his gut. But he doesn’t want it if Chandler doesn’t want it too, and if they couldn’t be friends anymore because of Joey’s stupid crush...

            He lets his hand fall away from the doorknob. His fingers brush over Chandler’s hip and make him flinch a little. “Chandler, I...” Joey licks his lips, rubs the back of his neck with nervous energy. The sight of those wide blue eyes makes his brain go blank, like someone cut the words right out of him.

            They both jump and yell when someone knocks at the door. Rachel swings the door open. “Hey, you guys ready for dinner?”

            “Yes! Oh my God, I’m starvin’!” Joey exclaims in relief, his arousal forgotten as he hurries across the hall to partake in delicious food.


	9. The One With the Valentine's Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place in 1x14

**Chapter 9: The One With the Valentine’s Dinner**

            Chandler’s having a one-man pity party at Central Perk when the girls walk in. “So what’s everyone doing for Valentine’s Day?” Rachel asks.

            Chandler makes an exasperated groaning sound and drops his head back against the couch. He really wishes he hadn’t been a total idiot by breaking off whatever he had going on with Joey. Sure, it gave him sleepless nights filled with sexual confusion, but at least it brought them closer. Now everything feels awkward and uncertain, and Joey’s got a crush on someone who isn’t him.

            Monica sits beside him and pats his hand. “I’m sorry, Chandler. If it makes you feel any better, we don’t have dates either.”

            “That’s not entirely true,” Phoebe interjects.

            Monica groans. “No, Pheebs, you’re not going out with Roger again. Don’t you remember why you dumped that guy?”

            Chandler sits up. “Roger? Mr. Talks-Out-of-His-Ass?” He makes a face.

            “‘Cause he was creepy and mean and a little frightening.” Phoebe sighs. “Okay, you’re right, but I don’t wanna be alone on Valentine’s Day. I mean, how sad is that?”

            Chandler winces.

            “You won’t be alone,” Rachel says. “You can come over and hang out with me and Monica.”

            “Yeah, it’ll be fun!” Monica adds. “We can eat a bunch of junk food and have a girl’s night in.” Chandler slumps in his seat and sighs loudly. “Chandler, do you want to come?”

            He’s quiet for a moment before answering. “I wouldn’t impose on you guys, but Ross has a date tomorrow night because of this stupid egg thing, and Joey’s making dinner for some girl he’s been going out with, and I just...really don’t want to be by myself.” He mumbles the last part, ashamed of his own stupid emotions.

            Monica gives him a friendly, non-judgemental smile. “You’re not imposing! You’re our friend too, remember?”

            “Oh, this is gonna be fun!” Phoebe claps her hands together.

            “Uh, Chandler, one thing I wanna get out in the open,” Rachel says. “Girls don’t actually have pillow fights in their underwear at sleepovers. You’ve been lied to.”

            “Ooh, don’t tell Joey. He’ll be devastated.”

            Chandler comes home that evening to see Joey on the couch with a woman, his hands cupped around her face as he’s kissing her. Chandler thinks about how those hands felt against his own skin, how Joey kisses like he doesn’t know how to stop. He swallows back the wounded offense building in his throat. “Hey, Joe, I see you brought a friend.”

            They break apart, and their heads swivel to look at him. “Chandler, hey.” Joey looks sort of guilty, as if he’s been caught doing something he’s not supposed to.

            Chandler heads to his bedroom. “Don’t mind me. I won’t bother you two.”

            “N—no, it’s okay, Lorraine was just leaving,” Joey says, standing up and sort of ushering her to the door. “We got an early start for rehearsals tomorrow morning, remember?”

            “Y—yeah, I guess I’ll see you then,” she says, sounding sort of put out. Chandler feels bad for intruding on their evening, but in all fairness it’s not like Joey put a sock on the door or anything. She leans in to give Joey a good night kiss; Chandler averts his eyes.

            “Did I interrupt something?” he asks when Joey’s shut the door. “I mean, I didn’t know you had a date tonight, but you might’ve mentioned it and I just forgot—”

            “Relax, Chandler,” Joey chuckles, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s no big deal.”

            “Was that her? The girl you like so much? Because...that probably wasn’t the way to go.” He shrugs when he sees the way Joey’s eyebrows knit at his words. “But then again, what do I know? I seem to only get dates through ridiculously convenient—or tragic—happenstance.”

            Joey looks hurt by this. Chandler has no idea what he said to put that expression on Joey’s face. “No, that—that wasn’t her. That was the casting director for the play I’m in—”

            “You got the part?”

            He smiles. “Yeah! I guess I forgot to tell you with how busy I’ve been.”

            “Congratulations!” Chandler’s a little offended that Joey waited this long to tell him. Usually Chandler’s the first person he tells about any flux in his career—big or small. The paranoid, insecure part of his brain is having a field day with this right now. “So, is she the one you’re making dinner for tomorrow night?”

            “Yeah,” Joey answers, flopping back onto the couch. “It’s gonna be great! I’m makin’ that eggplant parmesan you like, remember?”

            Chandler smiles at his enthusiasm; Joey would be a completely different person if he lost his over-the-top passion for food. Then his brain back-tracks to the beginning of Joey’s sentence. “Wait, if she’s not the girl you’re so crazy about, how come...” He trails off, gesturing in a vague sort of way.

            “Well, I thought about what you said, and I like this other girl so much, but...if I told her how I feel about her, it’d just make things weird between us, y’know? I don’t think she could ever feel the same way about me, so I’m just gonna try to move on. But Lorraine’s great, so”—Joey shrugs—“I’ll see where this goes.”

            Chandler nods and forces up a smile, trying his hardest to be happy for Joey. “Glad I could help, I guess.”

#

Chandler comes home from work the next day to find Joey busy in the kitchen. He’s been sneaking cigarettes at work to take the edge off his anger and resentment over Joey’s date tonight. So maybe he’s a little bitter that he doesn’t have the courage to actually tell Joey how he feels, but how can he not be? It’s like there are two parts of him—the rational Chandler who very much wants to be direct and honest, and the asshole Chandler that’s riddled with insecurities and daddy issues who foils all his best-laid plans—and he can’t get them to peacefully coexist inside himself.

             He gives Joey a lot of grief for being dim-witted, but Joey might have a lot more peace inside his head. To not be constantly at war with yourself, to know what you want and take action to actually get it—Chandler wonders what that’s like. He’s been stuck in the same dead-end job for years, longing for something more but too cowardly to quit. He ends up sabotaging his relationships for one reason or another, terrified of commitment but wanting its fruits. It really shouldn’t be so hard to just _tell_ Joey, but how can he when all the wires in his head are fighting against him?

            “So, tonight’s the night, huh?”

            Joey’s face is a study in pure joy. “Yeah! I’m excited!” His smile cleaves through Chandler’s heart like a hot knife.

            “Well, don’t worry. I’ll make myself scarce tonight so you two can enjoy yourselves.” Chandler doesn’t want to think about how they might do that, that someone who isn’t him will be kissing and touching Joey.

            “N—no, you don’t have to leave!” Joey moves to stop Chandler’s escape from the conversation. “At least hang around ‘til she shows up.” Joey’s close enough now to smell the tobacco clinging to Chandler’s clothes. He sniffs conspicuously. “Chandler, have you been smokin’ again?”

            “No.” Joey narrows his eyes. “Okay, maybe a little. Give me a break, I’m stressed.”

            Joey gives him an exasperated look. “This is the second time in two months you’ve been smokin’—”

            “That you know about,” Chandler mumbles under his breath.

            “That I know about! What’s eatin’ you, man?”

            Chandler shrugs in a way that’s too controlled. “Look, it’s just stress at work. It’ll pass.” He notices the genuine concern on Joey’s face. “Would it make you happy if I quit?”

            “Your job or the smoking?”

            “The smoking.”

            “Well, yeah,” Joey answers softly, as if he has no idea why Chandler would ask something like that.

            “Then I’ll stop.”

            Joey grins, but a moment of consideration makes it disappear. “Just like that?”

            “Well, of course, I’ll have to find healthier ways to deal with stress, but...yeah.”

            “Why don’t you take a shower so you can smell good for a change?”

            Chandler just gives him a sassy look before following his advice.

            Joey’s still working over the stove when Chandler steps out of the bathroom in his pajamas. He’s moving toward the front door when Joey says, “Wait, where you goin’?”

            “Oh, well, I told the girls I was going to Monica’s tonight. They don’t have dates, so we’re just gonna hang out. There might be a naked pillow fight in my future.”

            Joey lifts an eyebrow at that, looking intrigued, before his face closes off. “You’re not gonna wait ‘til Lorraine shows up?”

            Chandler thinks about that. He’d love to take advantage of this opportunity to spend more time with Joey, but he knows it’s only going to hurt. Joey’s moving on from his crush; maybe Chandler should too. He shakes his head. “Sorry, Joe. But, hey, you don’t need me tonight; it’s Valentine’s Day.” He laughs darkly and crosses the hallway to Monica and Rachel’s apartment.

            Rachel lets him inside, and the first thing he hears is Phoebe announcing, “Now we need the semen of a righteous man!”

            Chandler lifts his eyebrows, spreads his arms and says, “Look no further, ladies.”

            Rachel gives him a playful smack on the arm. “Pheebs, if we had that we wouldn’t be doing the ritual in the first place.”

            “Do I even want to know what you guys are doing?”

            “We’re performing a cleansing ritual,” Phoebe informs him, “to rid ourselves of bad luck with men.”

            “Well, good luck with that.”

            Monica gives him an appraising stare. “Nice pajamas.”

            Chandler glances down at his holey sweatshirt and plaid pajama pants, his goofy wolf slippers that make him look like the epitome of maturity. “Thanks.” He wiggles his feet so the wolves move. “You guys got any ice cream?”

            “There should be some left over,” Monica says.

            Chandler opens the freezer and peers inside. “Oh, score! Cookies and cream!”

            “No! The good kind is reserved for severe emotional crises only!” Monica gets up and grabs a pint of generic, boring vanilla out of the freezer. “Here. This is yours.” It’s half empty, but Chandler manages to jazz it up with a squirt of whipped cream and some crumbled Oreos, because he’s secretly an eight-year-old fat kid on the inside.

            “So...a cleansing ritual?” Chandler starts casually, propping his feet up on the coffee table. That’s when he notices the flames coming out of the bucket they’re using. “Oh God, that’s on fire!”

            “It was either burn the stuff they gave us or chant and dance around naked with sticks,” Phoebe explains.

            Chandler’s eyes widen. “Why wasn’t I consulted about this?”

            They just glare at him wordlessly before tossing more mementos into the bucket. Chandler thinks about joining in their little ritual, but adding something of Joey’s to the bonfire might raise a few perfectly-plucked eyebrows, so he sticks to observing.

            An hour later, Chandler’s managed to finish off his ice cream and avert disaster by keeping Rachel from pouring good alcohol into the fire. Now they’re sitting on the couch watching infomercials because they’ve lost control of their lives. “Do you think it worked? I don’t feel cleansed,” Rachel says.

            “I think it’s a metaphorical thing,” Phoebe says before being distracted by the television. “Oh my God, how do you mess that up?”

            “Where do you think they find these people?” Chandler wonders aloud. “Do the casting calls specify that they need people who fail spectacularly at things? ‘Are you a galloping idiot too stupid to perform even the most basic tasks? You may be perfect for starring in an infomercial!’”

            “It’s like they make these products to solve problems that no one has,” Monica says. “Who has that much trouble using cling wrap?”

            “That guy, obviously,” Rachel says.

            A knock at the door disrupts them, and Monica answers it. Joey’s standing there with a sheepish expression. “Hey, Mon. Chandler, can I talk to you for a sec?”

            “Sure.” He gets up from the couch to speak with Joey in the hallway. “What’s up?”

            Joey shifts his weight from one foot to the other, rubs the back of his neck. “Well, uh, Lorraine...couldn’t make it,” he says, looking—and sounding—a lot like he’s been kicked. “She said her ex showed up and wanted to work things out.” He shrugs weakly. “What could I say, y’know?”

            Chandler hates that someone could make Joey look so wounded. He’s seen him upset over missed or fumbled auditions, but this... Chandler knows how much it hurts to be rejected.

            He sighs out a breath and puts a hand on Joey’s shoulder, hoping to siphon some of his pain and bear it for him. “I’m sorry, Joe.” He doesn’t know what to offer that won’t be patronizing or cliché. “Do you wanna come in and watch stupid infomercials with us?”

            “Actually, I was wonderin’ if maybe you’d...have dinner with me.” Joey’s expression turns into something hopeful and shy.

             “I’m not—I’m not really dressed for the occasion,” Chandler says, showcasing his pajamas.

            “That doesn’t matter,” Joey chuckles. “You could be naked for all I care.”

            “I’m sure your appetite would have something to say about that,” Chandler quips. Joey’s wearing his forlorn, pleading face. Chandler guesses he should stop being an idiot and just say yes. “Of course I’ll have dinner with you, Joe.”

            Over dinner, Chandler remembers just how much he likes it when Joey actually cooks food. “God, this is amazing,” he says with his mouth full.

             “Hey, the bedroom ain’t the only room I’m good in,” Joey boasts. “When you got seven sisters, you learn a thing or two about cooking.”

            “Thank them for me.”

            Joey grins stupidly wide. “You really like it?”

            “Well, I do love being purposefully misleading,” Chandler jokes.

             He notices that Joey’s mood has lifted since they sat down to eat, and even moreso once they open the bottle of red wine sitting on the kitchen counter. Joey’s pretty amicable for being stood up on Valentine’s Day.

            After the meal’s finished, they retire to the couch with the wine, passing the bottle back and forth while watching some awful made-for-TV movie about dinosaurs.

            “You think Ross is watchin’ this?” Joey wonders aloud.

            “I thought he had a date.”

            Joey shrugs. “Yeah, but you know Ross.”

            “Do I.” Chandler grabs the wine from Joey and takes a swig. “Oh, the stories I could tell.”

            Joey turns his whole body to face Chandler. “Tell me!”

            “I swore to secrecy.”

            “Aw, c’mon!” Joey begs. “Please? I won’t tell anybody!”

            “Are you willing to swear a blood oath? Ross can never know I told you this. You promise?”

            Joey nods.

            “Alright.” Chandler tips the bottle toward Joey, who delicately takes it from his hand as if it’s made of paper-thin glass. He watches Joey’s fingers wrap around the bottle neck, remembers how those fingers felt pumping and stroking his dick. Chandler feels a slither of electricity crawl up his spine at the memory. Joey puts his lips to the rim of the bottle, and Chandler watches with an obscene amount of lust. God, he wants those lips around his cock. The way Joey’s throat moves when he swallows, the way he looks at Chandler with his lips uncoupled like he wants to put him in his mouth...

            Chandler grabs the wine back and douses his dirty thoughts with a splash of Merlot. “So, uh, Ross and I are going to Disneyland, and we stop at this restaurant for tacos. And when I say ‘restaurant,’ I mean a guy, a hibachi, and the trunk of his car.” Joey watches him with unwavering interest. “So Ross has about ten tacos. And anyway, we’re on Space Mountain and Ross starts to feel a little...iffy.”

            Joey’s trying very hard to hide the fact that he thinks this is hilarious, but the alcohol has wreaked havoc with his acting skills. “No way, did he throw up?”

            “No, he visited a little town south of throw up.”

            Chandler would have earned himself a face full of red wine if he hadn’t moved aside in anticipation of Joey’s spit-take. Joey’s making gasping-choking noises around laughter.  Chandler waits for it to subside.

            “Oh my God,” Joey croaks out when he can speak again. “That is amazing!” He stops laughing to hack out a cough.

            “Remember, you can’t tell anyone.”

            “I won’t.” Joey’s shaking his head, chest rumbling with low chuckles. “Aw, man. We’re outta wine.”

            “Well, if you had seen the punchline coming you could’ve enjoyed that last sip.” Chandler lies back against the couch, sinking into the cushions. “It’s probably for the best anyway. I’m already spilling secrets.”

            Joey’s quiet for a moment, then: “Hey, Chandler? Thanks for havin’ dinner with me tonight.”

            “No problem, Joe. I’m just sorry you got stuck with me instead of Lorraine.”

            “‘Stuck with’ you?” Joey scoffs. “What’re you talkin’ about? You’re great! I love talkin’ to you!”

            Now it’s Chandler’s turn to grin like a moron. “Really?”

           “Of course! You give me good advice, and you’re so funny! I don’t think you’re even tryin’ most of the time, it just comes out.” Joey pats him on the shoulder. “You’re a great guy, Chandler. I’m lucky to have you as a friend.”

           Chandler’s never wanted to kiss anyone as much as he wants to kiss Joey right now. But he doesn’t. It’s Joey, for Christ’s sake. Joey loves women almost as much as he loves food. There’s no way he would actually be interested in another guy, much less Chandler. Chandler still doesn’t understand the whole fooling around thing they had going on, but he’s chalking that up to alcohol and raging hormones. No feelings. At least nothing emotionally binding.

            So he just smiles and says, “Thanks.”


	10. The One With the Cold Pizza

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first three parts take place in 1x15, then the parts with Ross in or around 1x20

**Chapter 10: The One With the Cold Pizza**

“We really need to get the heater fixed,” Joey says through chattering teeth while they’re cuddled in Chandler’s bed. He’s not used to the firmness of the mattress, but Chandler’s got an electric blanket, and it’s about minus five hundred degrees in the apartment tonight.

            Chandler shifts to roll onto his side, and his ass brushes against the hard line of Joey’s dick. Chandler doesn’t seem to notice, but Joey angles his hips away; he does not need any more temptation in that area. “Relax, I’ll call Treeger tomorrow before work,” Chandler grumbles into the pillow.

            Joey gives him a look that’s futile because Chandler’s back is facing him. “You quit, remember?”

            “That’s right, I did.” Chandler lets out a little laugh. “How liberating.”

            Joey scoots closer to him, hoping to siphon some of his body heat. “What’s with that anyway? You get offered a promotion and you just quit? If I got some big-time role in a movie and turned that down, you’d get mad at me.”

            “You’re not wrong.”

            “So how come you quit? I don’t think both of us can be broke and still live here.”

            “I’m not broke,” Chandler says flippantly. “I’ve got a savings account. Besides, I’ve always pictured myself as having a cool job, y’know? I don’t wanna lock myself into a promotion without seeing what else is out there.”

            Joey burrows deeper into the warm space around Chandler. Chandler sort of stiffens at the touch but doesn’t push away from him or raise objection. “Well, hey, if that’s what you wanna do, I’ll support you! And if it means we gotta move out and live in a box, I’m right there with ya!” He presses his forehead to Chandler’s back. “How are you not cold? I’m freezin’! Turn up the blanket.”

            “It’s already on nine. You wanna be fried and crispy in the morning?”

            “I wanna be warm!” Joey whines, kicking his feet like a child in the midst of a tantrum.

            “Well, in that case...” Chandler rolls over to face Joey. “I have a few ideas on how we can _warm up_.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

            Joey’s eyes go wide. Holy shit, this is, like, ten of his fantasies involving sex with Chandler. “I—I thought you didn’t want to...”

            “I don’t,” Chandler says, like the words grate his throat to speak. “But if my only other option is letting you freeze to death, I think I’m willing to take one for the team, so to speak.”

            “I wanna at least be able to feel my toes while I’m havin’ sex.”

            “I can feel ‘em for you. My hands are warm.” Chandler touches the back of his hand to Joey’s face to prove his point.

            “We’re not gonna do this when I’m in danger of freezing solid!”

            “Not with that attitude.”

            “It should be romantic, don’t you think?”

            “So do you want me to go get some candles or—” Joey puts a hand over Chandler’s mouth. Chandler recoils at the sudden jolt of ice. “C—cold fingers!” Joey gives him a look that Chandler understands perfectly. “I’ll stop talking.”

            “We shouldn’t do it just to keep from freezin’, y’know?”

            Chandler stares at him in disbelief. “Who the hell _are_ you?”

            Joey fidgets at the weight of his words, the almost-confession spilling from his lips. “I feel like things are different for us. You’re not just somebody I met at an audition or a sandwich shop. You’re Chandler. You’re my best friend. So I don’t wanna”—he searches for the right word, comes up empty—“use you for somethin’ like that.” He sneaks a hand inside Chandler’s shirt to warm up.

            Chandler startles at the cold bite of his touch. “Jesus, Joe, what’re you doing?”

            “I’m tryin’ to warm my hands up!” Joey protests. “Look, I don’t like this any more than you do, but we’re gonna freeze if we don’t share each other’s body heat.”

            Chandler nods, looking inexplicably sad for some reason. “Yeah, you’re right.” He rolls over again so his back is facing Joey. “Warm ‘em up.”

            Joey slides his hand into Chandler’s sweatshirt, and Chandler flinches at the touch. He spreads his fingers over Chandler’s skin, across the span of his back. Chandler doesn’t seem opposed to the touching, so Joey keeps his hands there until the heat from their bodies has lulled him to sleep.

#

 

Joey’s been watching boring infomercials for two hours now waiting for Chandler to get home from work. They’re those super-long infomercials too, the ones you end up watching for about seventeen minutes before you realize they’re not a regular-length commercial. Joey doesn’t even need a new grass trimmer—he lives in an apartment in the Village, for Christ’s sake—but he’s thought about buying one for the past half-hour just to keep his mind off of Chandler’s absence here. That’s how embarrassing his life has become; he’s wide awake at four-thirty in the morning watching an infomercial for a weed whacker.

            Chandler would have called if he was going to be late, right? He wouldn’t leave Joey wondering if he’d been abducted or mugged or murdered on his way home from work. It’s not like they had plans tonight or anything, but still. Or maybe Joey’s just worrying over nothing and Chandler’s new job has forced him to stay a little longer at the office. Today marks the first day of Chandler’s promotion, and that would be the simplest explanation for his absence.

            Joey starts to doze off on the couch when the sound of the door opening startles him awake. “Chandler? That you?” He sits up and peers over the top of the couch.

            Chandler shuts the door, looking the definition of frazzled. “Joe, what’re you doin’ up?”

            “Waitin’ for you,” Joey answers like it’s obvious. “Where the hell were you? I thought you died!”

            Chandler pushes a hand through his messy hair and drops his briefcase by the couch. “I’m sorry, this new job is keeping me really busy.”

            “You should’ve called!”

            “I know, but I was on a four-hour conference call with our L.A. office about the WENUS,” he says around a yawn.

            Joey frowns while he thinks through the acronym; it’s not as dirty as it sounds, he remembers. “W—well, next time, let me know you’re stayin’ late, alright?” That sounded a lot less naggy in his head.

            Chandler yawns again, slumps into the couch cushions. “Yeah, sure thing, Joe.” His eyes are closed, his body leaning against Joey’s arm. At least Joey knows Chandler wasn’t trying to flee from their friendship; sharing body heat with him the other night has made Joey ridiculously self-conscious about his inappropriate crush. “So how was your day?”

            Joey thinks about it. “Oh, Ross’ date went great—y’know, with the girl who wanted him to talk dirty? And that guy that Monica was cookin’ for ended up bein’ a real jerk, so—” Chandler sort of falls on top of Joey, sprawling out over his chest as his body’s craving for sleep hits him all at once. Joey looks down at Chandler, his hair askew, half of his limbs dangling off of the couch. He’s got one arm looped underneath Joey’s neck, using his shoulder as a makeshift pillow. It’s actually kind of precious, but Joey’s not going to admit that he describes anything other than cute babies or animals as precious.

            Joey’s not going to argue semantics either; tonight makes twice now that he’s literally slept with Chandler in less than a week. 

# 

If Chandler thought he had trouble keeping his eyes open at work before, he was not prepared for the struggle to stay awake as a processing supervisor. He left Joey a message about an hour ago, letting him know he wasn’t dead in an alley somewhere, because Joey has an outrageously overactive imagination sometimes. But Chandler appreciates his concern. Honestly, he’d expected to come home last night and see Joey passed out on the couch or fondling a lady-friend. It was nice to see that Joey cares enough to wait up for him.

            This job might drain Chandler’s soul a little more each day, but at least he has a nice view of the city. He likes to keep the curtains open so he can look out at the bustle of the city and wish he was doing something more fulfilling than analyzing data sheets with silly names. He ought to be in charge of naming these things something less ridiculous. He gets side-tracked thinking up more professional names for the Weekly Estimated Net Usage Systems when he hears the sound of a door opening. His head shoots up, his body flailing in reflexive panic and trying not to end up on the floor.

            “Man, you really need to lock this place up better,” Joey says, dropping a pizza box on Chandler’s desk. “Any idiot could walk right in here.” He flips the box open to reveal half a pizza inside. “You got a microwave in here? It’s a little cold from bein’ in the fridge for...six hours.” There’s a half-eaten slice of pizza in the box that Joey’s trying very hard not to look at. Joey notices that Chandler sees it, and his stupidly-attractive face goes all innocent. “Sorry, I got hungry on the way over here.”

            Chandler smiles and grabs a slice for himself, because the smell of pepperoni and cheese wafting from inside the box is making his stomach growl. “Thanks, Joe.” Chandler is not even close to good enough to have earned Joey’s friendship. Seriously, he lucked out big-time.

            “Oh, and I brought you this too!” Joey’s all awkward smiles as his other hand sets a tall cup of coffee on Chandler’s desk. “Thought you might want some coffee if you’re gonna be workin’ late.”

            Chandler opens his mouth to say that his body’s already protesting the titanic amount of stimulants he’s pumped into it today, but Joey went out of his way to do something nice for Chandler, so he probably shouldn’t be a dick about it. “Thanks,” he says instead. At least the coffee’s still warm. He takes an appreciative sip, tasting the extra sugar and cream. God, he could just kiss Joey right now. But that would make things weird. “You wanna stay for a bit?” His gaze flickers to the clock at the corner of his computer screen. “I should probably take a break anyway.”

            Joey grins and drops down into one of the empty chairs. He starts playing with the stapler on the desk until Chandler makes him stop. “Sorry.” Joey smiles a little too wide, looks away with color in his cheeks.

            “How’d you get in here anyway?” Chandler asks with the coffee halfway to his mouth. “Or did I already show you my office? I can’t remember. Everything’s blurring together.” He can count on one hand the hours of sleep he had last night. That’s just sad.

            “Phoebe told me; you brought her up here yesterday. We were gonna go see a movie, but we didn’t know if you were comin’ or not, so I checked my messages and heard you were stayin’ here.” He shrugs in a way that’s too controlled; Chandler wonders why.

            “So you decided to feed me in lieu of a cinematic adventure.”

            “Eh, there’s nothin’ good playin’ anyway,” Joey says, a twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

            One hour later, Chandler and Joey have managed to make a game out of tossing wadded-up paper balls into the wastebasket on the other side of the room. Chandler’s up by twelve points, and Joey’s not taking it too well. “This isn’t fair, Chandler, you get to do this all the time! You got home-court advantage!”

            Chandler gives him a look. “I’ve seen you fling your socks into the laundry basket from the couch—with your feet.”

            “That’s different,” Joey insists with a pout.

            “How?”

            “It just is!” He shoots another paper ball into the air, but this one soars over the trash bin and gets caught in the branches of the fake plant in the corner. “Oh, come on!”

            Chandler laughs into his coffee and crumples a sheet of paper in his free hand. “Watch the master.” He effortlessly tosses his next shot into the tree, knocking Joey’s ball out of the branches and into the basket.

            “No! Call the ref in!”

            “Don’t let it get to you, Joe,” Chandler brags, spinning in his chair to face him. “I was captain of the paperball team in high school.”

            “Yeah, well, I had sex in high school, so who’s laughin’ now?”

            “Still me,” Chandler says, shaking his head and smirking a little, because he never pictured himself pining for this big, dumb goofball. It’s really pathetic when he thinks about it. He sticks his hand into the pizza box at the same time Joey does. His fingers end up grazing over Joey’s hand and wrapping around his wrist. Neither one of them moves. Chandler can feel the subtle throb of Joey’s pulse beneath the skin; it’s warm and inviting. He has no idea what to do here. Should he make some sort of tender gesture?

           “You can have it,” Joey murmurs, risking a glance at Chandler before dropping his gaze back to the lone slice.

            “No, go ahead.”

            “I brought it for you. You should take it.”

            They’re going to be stuck here until the end of time because Chandler doesn’t want to be the first one to pull his hand away.

            “Or...” Joey reaches down, grabs the slice and tears it in half. “Even better!”

            Chandler takes his half, staring at Joey in disbelief. What just happened here? They shared an awkward—albeit intimate—moment, and Joey shared food.

            This might actually be the end of the world.

#

Chandler’s hanging around at Central Perk when Ross shows up looking like someone told him Marcel died.

            “What’s wrong? Did the dinosaurs go extinct again?”

            Not even a smile. Tough crowd. Ross collapses onto the couch in the space beside Chandler. “It’s Rachel,” Ross moans, glancing at her behind the counter when her back is turned. “I’m sick of seein’ her date all these jerks like Paolo, and now Barry has to show up...” He sighs. “I just wish I could tell her how I feel about her, y’know?”

            Chandler doesn’t know if it’s possible to empathize more with someone. He feels the same way about Joey, watching him stumble through one failed relationship after another. If Chandler wasn’t such a coward, he’d tell Joey how he feels, but the odds are stacked so high against him. At least Ross has an actual chance with Rachel, considering that she dates men. 

            “Well, why don’t you?” he asks casually. “She’s not seeing anybody, is she?”

            “I don’t think so.”

            “And you’re single...”

            Ross frowns a little. “Thank you for reminding me.”

            “So just tell her. Invite her to your place one night, and you can, I dunno, surprise her with a big romantic candlelight dinner or something. Then you can tell her”—Chandler shrugs—“how you’ve always thought she was beautiful, how she makes you laugh, how wonderful you think she is... Y’know, just...be honest.”

            Ross’s expression lights up with hope. “You—you really think that’ll work?”

            “Like a charm.” He smiles wryly, but Ross doesn’t seem to catch the sadness there.

            “But what if she doesn’t see me that way?”

            “Just be sure you can live with whatever her answer is.”

            Ross’s gaze flicks up to look at Rachel. “You think she’ll say no?”

            He shrugs. “No idea. But if she does, do you think you could still be friends?”

            Ross thinks about it for a moment, then he nods. “Yeah, I do.”

            Ross is either the bravest man on the planet or flagrantly stupid; Chandler’s not sure which. He must be seriously desperate if he’s coming to Chandler for dating advice. But odds are he was hoping Joey would be here and instead got stuck with Chandler.

            Ross fixes his hair, straightens his jacket. “Okay, okay, I can do this.” He takes a deep breath and gets up from the couch, heads over to the counter where Rachel’s working. Chandler can’t hear what they’re saying, but Rachel seems pretty interested: she’s smiling, nodding enthusiastically, touching his arm. She might actually be into Ross. Huh. What a world.

            He comes back to the couch when he’s finished talking with Rachel. “Oh my God, she actually said yes!” he exclaims in an excited whisper. “She’s coming over Friday night!”

            “Hey, you’re halfway there!” Chandler really hopes Ross and Rachel get together, because he wants to believe that same kind of happiness is possible for himself and Joey. Maybe just seeing it in action, seeing a couple of good friends turned lovers would fill him with the delusional confidence to confess his own feelings.

            But until then, he’ll just wait...

#

Joey and Chandler are in the kitchen enjoying a decadent breakfast of buttered toast on Saturday morning when Ross comes bursting through the door like the goddamn Kool-Aid man. “She said yes!” he shouts, out of breath. “She said yes!”

            “Rachel?” Chandler asks.

            “No, the Queen of England,” Ross quips, calm, before ratcheting up the energy and yelling, “Yes, Rachel!”

            “To the date?”

            “To _me_!”

            Joey really wishes he knew what was going on right now. “You and Rachel...?”

            Ross ignores Joey, rushing over to Chandler and lifting him off of the stool in a bear hug. “Thank you! I did everything you said: the romantic dinner, the wine, and I told her how much I liked her, and she said that was the sweetest thing anyone’s done for her, and she kissed me!” Ross is actually jumping up and down now, still hugging Chandler.

            Chandler extricates himself from the embrace and takes a moment to wait for the world to stop spinning. “Okay, that’s—that’s amazing! My advice actually worked! That never happens!”

            “What advice?” Joey asks, but he’s ignored—again.

            Ross hugs him again, though this time it’s less physically engaging. “If we get married, you are definitely my best man!”

            “Whoa, slow down there, champ,” Chandler says, putting his hands up as if warding off an attack. “It’s been”—he looks at the clock—“twelve hours and you’re already talking about marriage. At this rate, you’ll have kids by the end of the week.”

            “What’s goin’ on?” Joey shouts, because if he’s ignored one more time he might just have to start taking his clothes off so they’ll pay attention to him.

            Chandler rolls his eyes and looks over at Joey as if he’s just asked the most inane question ever uttered by a human being. “I told Ross to ask Rachel out, and he did. The end.”

            “You went to Chandler for dating advice instead of me?”

            Chandler mouth-glares at him.

            “Well, I wanted to ask you, but Chandler was there...” Ross admits in a low voice, like he doesn’t want Chandler to hear.

            Chandler frowns harder at both of them. “Why don’t you just light me on fire and kick me down the stairs?”

            Joey looks at Chandler. “How did you know what to say?”

            Chandler sort of shrugs. “I just...thought about what I’d like someone to do for me.” Joey’s about to ask him what that might be when Chandler adds, “I figured somebody ought to enjoy it, y’know?” He chuckles, self-deprecating, and it breaks Joey’s heart.

            Ross claps Chandler on the shoulder. “Hey, man, if you wanna make it happen, you gotta be a man and lay it all down.” Chandler just scowls at him; he’s very good at scowling, Joey thinks. “Do what you told me! Do something nice, a big gesture to get her attention!” Joey panics internally that Chandler might have someone in mind already—someone who isn’t him. “C’mon, quit being a wuss!”

            Chandler’s brow furrows impossibly further. “You’ve been in a relationship for twelve hours,” he says, incredulous.

            “Twelve hours longer than you!” Ross gloats before leaving the apartment.

            Chandler gestures with his entire body. “That doesn’t even make sense!” He huffs in annoyance and sits down at the bar, staring at his plate as if it might hold the secrets to the universe instead of merely holding buttered toast.

            Joey wets his lips. “So, uh, what’d you tell Ross anyway?”

            “It’s not some groundbreaking secret, Joe. Just the whole romantic candlight dinner routine. You’ve probably done it a thousand times.”

            “Yeah.” Joey feels his face heat up. If Chandler doesn’t realize that they’ve basically _had_ that romantic candlelight dinner, Joey’s obviously going to need to step up his game here. But he feels like he’s done all he can, that the only way he could be more obvious about it at this point is to just put Chandler’s dick in his mouth, though that might be unwelcome without the obligatory discussion of emotions and a mutual wanting to touch each other’s genitals.

            So the question remains: what can Joey do as a big, dramatic gesture that doesn’t actually involve talking about his ridiculously inappropriate crush on his roommate?


	11. The One With the Banana-Flavored Condoms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the hotel scenes take place during the events of 1x21 ((TOW the Fake Monica)), so the scenes before that are meant to be after 1x20 ((TOW the Evil Orthodontist)) since Chandler's birthday is ballparked in early April-my timeline is the episode's original airdates, save for S2 when I start altering the dates for consistency)

**Chapter 11: The One With the Banana-Flavored Condoms**

Joey’s been waiting for Chandler to come home from work for about two hours now. He feels pretty silly, sitting here in one of their new sleek, black leather recliners in front of the TV. The longer the clock drags on, the more Joey panics. This was the worst idea he’s ever had; Chandler’s going to be totally overwhelmed by the gesture.

            But it’s not like Chandler’s exempt from giving expensive birthday presents; he got Joey the foosball table for his birthday, and that couldn’t have been cheap. So Joey hadn’t been too worried about this at first. He was actually really excited about the opportunity to do something nice for Chandler without it seeming random and suspicious. Joey wonders when Chandler’s going to figure out this whole crush thing, because it’s not like Joey’s actually going to _say_ anything about it; Chandler’s his roommate, for Christ’s sake. If Joey fucks this up he’s got to live with the inevitable awkwardness between them or just bite the bullet and move out.

            All of this is Chandler’s fault because he just has to put question marks over everything. Sometimes Joey wishes that Chandler’s brain worked like an actual person’s, but a lot of Chandler’s charm lies in him not being normal.

            Joey hears the sound of a key being jammed into a lock. He pops up from his chair and stares expectantly over the top of the recliner.

            Chandler swings open the front door and immediately looks confused, like he thinks he might be in the wrong apartment.

            Joey grins at him, spreads his arms wide. “Happy birthday!”

            Chandler blinks in silent shock. He gestures weakly to the chairs and then to himself. “For—for me?”

            “Yeah!” Joey rushes to his side, as Chandler’s still frozen in disbelief. He takes his hand and leads him over to the recliners. “Check out the leg rest!” Chandler sits down, sinks into the leather.

            “It’s like sitting on a cloud!”

            “I know!” Joey sort of bounces up and down. “So, you—you like ‘em?”

            “Of course I do! They’re amazing! Thank you!” Chandler stands up and hugs him before crossing the floor. “Are the others next door? I should thank them too!”

            “Well, actually, they didn’t—” Joey stops and rubs the back of his neck, drops his gaze to the carpet. “This is just from me.” His face heats up under the weight of the confession; even though he’s not admitting to anything major, he still feels emotionally naked. Seriously, how has Chandler _not_ figured this out?

            Chandler spins around and stares at him. “What? How?” He’s doing that spazzy gesturing thing he does when he’s confused. “Did you rob a bank?”

            “Hey, I got money!” Joey folds his arms over his chest. “And is that how you treat somebody who gets you stuff: ask ‘em how they paid for it? Ever heard of ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’?”

            “If someone’s giving me a horse, I’m going to come up with every reason for them to _not_ do that.”

            Joey just frowns at him. “Well, excuse me for tryin’ to do somethin’ nice for you! Why can’t you just be appreciative?”

            “I do appreciate it, Joe. I do,” Chandler says, but Joey’s still scowling. “I just hope you didn’t blow all your money on me.”

            “Well, I didn’t. The other chair is for me.”

            “You didn’t spend too much, did you?”

            Joey shakes his head, trying to find a way to sidestep the question while not seeming too obvious about avoiding it. “No, I—I actually got a gig so I could do somethin’ really nice for you. It’s no big deal.”

            Chandler looks oddly surprised about this. Joey wonders if he said something to offend him. “Joe... What was it?”

            Damn it. He was hoping the awesomeness of the chairs would overshadow how he got the money. Joey’s a little humiliated that he didn’t see this coming; in side-stepping one awkward question he fell right into another. “That’s the thing... I asked Estelle if there was anything I could audition for, and...” He looks away, feels a weird twist in his stomach. “The only thing available was porn.”

            “You’re in a porno movie?” Chandler blurts out with absolutely no volume control.

            Joey winces, because the last thing he wants right now is for the others to hear that without context. “It’s not like I’m actually—”

            Chandler drops his voice a couple octaves, but it’s still way too loud for this kind of sensitive information. “Oh my God, are you with another guy? Is it a gay porn?”

            “Chandler...” Joey squirms beneath his gaze. Half of his brain is thinking about whether or not Chandler would be turned on by seeing him in a gay porn; would he prefer watching him fuck other guys or be fucked by other guys? Or maybe Chandler’s got an oral fixation, and, wow, that’s enough of this train of thought. “It’s not a big deal. Alright, yeah, I went there to audition, but I couldn’t do it.”

            “You couldn’t, uh, rise to the occasion?”

            Joey shrugs. “Not really. I wasn’t scared or anything, I just... I dunno, I guess I couldn’t do it.” That’s only partially true, but Joey’s not going to tell Chandler the rest of it, that he couldn’t stop thinking about Chandler and how much he likes him, and the very real possibility that he doesn’t want to have sex with anyone who isn’t Chandler. He hates this stupid crush; it’s putting a real cramp in his usually active sex life.

            Chandler swallows thickly. “So then how...”

            “They let me be the guy who comes in to fix the copier but can’t ‘cause there’s people havin’ sex on it.”

            There’s a moment of tense silence, then Chandler snorts a laugh. “Oh my God! I have the best friend ever!”

            “R—really?”

            “You think Ross would be in a porno to get some extra cash to buy something nice for me?”

            Joey frowns in disgust. “Thanks, Chandler. Now I’m thinkin’ about Ross naked.”

            “Now I am too.” Chandler shuts his eyes, shudders. “That’s an image I didn’t need in my head.”

            “Well, let’s get it outta there and watch some TV!”

            Chandler saunters over to his new chair. “Why not? We’ve got a couple hours until my totally-not-a-surprise party.”

#

Chandler, Joey, Monica, and Phoebe are gathered on the couch watching a Spanish soap opera at the girls’ apartment a few days later.

            “You think I could be in somethin’ like that?” Joey asks.

            Chandler looks over at him. “Well, you’d have to speak Spanish, so...no.”

            Rachel bursts through the front door.  “Hey, you guys! Guess what?”

            “Oh, uh, sale at Neiman Marcus?” Chandler guesses, merely to annoy her.

            “Oh, uh, shut up!” Rachel sort of tosses her purse at him as she moves closer to the group. “Ross just gave me the most romantic birthday gift!”

            “I thought your birthday wasn’t until next month,” Monica says.

            “He wanted to wait, but he couldn’t.”

            Joey looks confused. “You’re not talkin’ about sex, are you?”

            Rachel just sighs at him, like she has a million other things to be doing and instead she’s choosing to waste her time talking to Joey. “Ross and I are going on a romantic weekend vacation at that new resort hotel that just opened up,” she explains for him.

            “Oh, wow!” Phoebe exclaims. “Do they offer massages?”

            “I think so—”

            “Okay, don’t get one. Because if you do, I will find you. You think I won’t, but I will.”

            “Wasn’t planning on it, Pheebs,” Rachel says. “Anyway, he wanted to go the weekend of my birthday, but they were all booked up, and the only thing available was a double suite for this weekend.”

            “Man, how fancy is this place?” Joey wonders aloud.

            “The fanciest!” Monica’s way too excited for someone who isn’t going. “They literally have a water park behind the hotel!”

            “Whoa!”

            “I know!”

            “I’m glad you guys are interested,” Rachel says, “‘cause, uh, we weren’t planning on sleeping in separate rooms. So”—she looks at everyone gathered on the couch—“who else is dating somebody?”

            Chandler smirks, raises his hand just to be contrary.

            Rachel doesn’t find his shenanigans quite as amusing as he’d hoped. “Put your hand down, Chandler.” No one else has raised their hand. “Gosh, really? None of you guys?”

            “It’s not our fault you stumbled into a ridiculously epic romance,” Monica quips, then adds: “With my brother.”

            “It’s not my fault he’s your brother!” Rachel breathes out, grabs some brochures for the resort out of her purse. “Okay, well, it’s a couple’s resort, but there’s a lot of cool stuff to do!” She flips through one of the pamphlets. “Look, they have a casino, an all-you-can-eat buffet, and—”

            Joey’s head perks up. “All-you-can-eat?” Rachel hands him a brochure. “Whoa, there’s a movie theater, restaurants, and, like, ten pools!”

            Monica flops into the couch cushions. “I wish I could go, but the restaurant’s been really busy lately, and I can’t afford to take off.”

            “What about you, Pheebs?”

            “I promised my grandma that I’d help her redecorate. I can’t say no to an old lady!”

            “Can you say no to me?” Joey wiggles his eyebrows at her. “‘Cause I’m goin’.”

            Chandler’s starting to break out into a panicked sweat. He wants to go if Joey’s going, because, hello, a weekend in a hotel that’s designed to be romantic? But he doesn’t want to seem obvious about it.

            Joey’s voice startles him out of his thoughts. “Chandler, you should go!”

            Oh hell. His body seems to think a panic response is appropriate, and it’s not entirely wrong. Adrenaline pumps through his veins and makes his voice quiver. “Um, I don’t—I don’t have anyone to go with.”

            “You’re goin’ with me!” Joey says, slapping him on the arm. Chandler sort of flinches. “And they’ve got cool stuff to do here anyway. It’s not like we’ll be bored.”

            Would it seem weird if he agreed to go now that Joey suggested it? He doesn’t want the girls to think he’s only going because Joey’s going, which, yeah, that’s the truth, but they don’t need to know that. “I won’t have to make little tiny moccasins out of beads, will I?”

            Rachel scoffs. “It’s a resort, Chandler, not a retirement home.” She smacks him on the head with a pamphlet before sticking it in his hand. “See for yourself.”

            “They got an all-you-can-eat buffet!” Joey reminds him.

            “Sorry, Joe, I just don’t get as excited about food as you do,” Chandler muses. He flips through the brochure half-heartedly, because he’s already made up his mind to go now that Joey’s going to be there. “Okay, yeah, I guess I’ll go. I’ve been pretty stressed out with work lately.”

            “Yeah, it’ll be great! You’ll actually get to relax for once,” Joey says, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

            Chandler wonders if the universe pushes him into these situations or if he just brings them upon himself.

# 

Joey’s still haphazardly packing when Chandler comes home from work Friday afternoon. “You know we’re leaving today, right?”

            Joey scowls at him. “Yeah, I know. I overslept.”

            Chandler sighs, heads down the hall for a quick shower. “Well, you might want to hurry. Ross and Rach are picking us up at five.”

            He takes his time in the shower as an opportunity to psych himself up for tonight. This trip holds the very real possibility of actual sex—sex that he gets to participate in—between himself and Joey. He might get to have sex with Joey. Oh God. This is the complete opposite of psyching himself up. Chandler may actually be freaking out.

            It’s not the sex that makes his stomach twist up in knots—although that is a contributing factor. It’s the fact that he’s going to have to actually admit that he likes Joey in a non-platonic way. Because the thought of Joey’s disgusted and horrified expression (he can picture it perfectly in his head) scares the shit out of him. His logical side would like to point out that Joey’s probably not going to react so dramatically, because they’ve kissed and fooled around a couple times already. If Joey was completely opposed to the idea, he would have made it clear. Instead, it was Chandler who made things weird by stopping their mutual orgasm arrangement. Chandler’s going to go ahead and take the blame for that one because, really, what the hell was he thinking?

            Chandler lets himself think about Joey—the way he looks at him sometimes, the way his mouth feels, how his hands had felt wrapped around his dick—and comes undone against the shower tile. Then, under the punishing heat of the falling water, he makes himself think about all the ways this _thing_ with Joey could go wrong, how opening his stupid mouth about his embarrassing crush would ruin their friendship and make him something he never wanted to be; the water’s running cold by the time he’s finished.

            When Chandler gets out of the shower and into a change of clothes, Joey has managed to stuff what appears to be his entire wardrobe into one suitcase. “Joe, we’re only gonna be gone for the weekend, not the rest of the Clinton administration.”

            “Hey, I like to be prepared, alright?”

            “For what, the apocalypse? Because if that happens, I really doubt your biggest concern will be what to wear.”

            Joey just rolls his eyes at him. Chandler enjoys poking at that, but Ross and Rachel show up before he has time to needle Joey any further.

# 

Joey stays unusually quiet during the cab ride to the hotel, running through all the reasons why confessing to Chandler sometime this weekend won’t be the worst idea he’s ever had. Maybe, like, second worst. Chandler clearly doesn’t hate him, judging by the fact that he’s accompanying him on this little trip. He seemed like he was into the whole sex thing until he stopped it for reasons Joey’s still not clear about. He wishes he could ask why without seeming suspicious or poking somewhere he shouldn’t.

            Joey’s never been in a long-term relationship before. Hell, people chew a stick of gum longer than he goes out with one girl. But he’s never dated anyone that he knew as well as he knows Chandler. Maybe it’s different when you know their little quirks and what makes them tic, when you get to see them as they are, free of pretense. So maybe he could make it work with Chandler if he had the chance.

            So how does he want to play this? Saying something tonight would, in the worst-case scenario, give them two whole days of awkward, close-quarters interaction—but if Chandler’s actually into him, Joey could be, uh, _into_ him over the course of the entire weekend. Telling him Saturday night would only yield one potential day of sex or discomfort, depending on Chandler’s reaction. Sunday seems optimal if Joey’s primary concern is avoiding too much humiliation, but that would only give them Sunday night to have sex.

            Joey’s going to have to play this one by ear.

            The hotel seems to be about fifty stories tall and twice as big on the inside. The polished wood floor glows with the bronze hue from the lights. The second-floor lobby has an enormous lounge and bar area that Joey doesn’t have time to adequately appreciate before he’s hurrying to catch up to the others. There’s a stretch of hallway to the elevators, which sit in the middle of a massive circular surface that serves as the floor. More passages stretch out in almost every direction, long fingers reaching out like spokes on a bicycle. These hallways lead to various ballrooms and attractions; one leads to a casino, its lights aglow and flickering, another leads to a luxurious spa.

            Below where they’re standing lies another level that only seems reachable via escalator. The ground floor of the building appears to be a few stories below them. The layout of this place brings to mind that big, round room of the Death Star where Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader faced off in _The Empire Strikes Back_. Joey feels like a dork for knowing this and blames it entirely on Chandler.

            He doesn’t have much time to gawk, because they all cram into an elevator and ride it up to floor twenty. The elevator opens to a warm, cream-colored hallway with elegant wood panels lining the corners and ceilings. Ross and Rachel find their room; Chandler and Joey’s is right next door. They open the door to a stylish suite with a high ceiling. Soft lights hang on the walls, casting the room in an orange glow. Along the north wall are huge glass doors that open up to a balcony overlooking the bustle of the city. The sleek leather couch in the middle of the room faces a gigantic television set.

            Chandler sets his luggage down at the foot of the bed and opens the door adjoining their room to Ross and Rachel’s. “Hey guys!”

            “Hi!” Rachel exclaims, as if surprised to see him. Rachel and Ross’ room looks about the same as theirs, with a few minor changes—different wallpaper, the bathroom is on the left instead of the right.

            Joey is very aware of the fact that there’s only one bed in this room, and he wonders if Chandler is internally panicking about this very fact. Chandler doesn’t seem to notice, too wrapped up in talking to Ross and Rachel. There’s a nightstand with a touch lamp on the right-hand side of the bed, and Joey pulls the top drawer open and digs through it, curious as to its contents. His eyes go wide when he sees strips of condoms and an industrial-sized bottle of lube. Christ, it’s like the room wants him and Chandler to have sex. This room _expects_ sex. 

            Joey gulps, wets his lips and finds his throat impossibly dry. He shuts the drawer and opens the middle one. This one’s actually _worse_ ; Joey sees handcuffs and some sort of whip before he nearly slams the drawer shut. He’s already having enough trouble not thinking about sex with Chandler; does he really need to involve handcuffs in those fantasies?

            “What’cha doin’, Joe?” Chandler asks, joining Joey at the bedside table. “Anything good in here?” He opens the top drawer. “Whoa.” Chandler reaches in, pulls out a long strip of condoms. “Do they replace these, or do you think they just let ‘em sit here until they’re all gone?” He makes a face in realization. “These condoms could be older than I am.”

            Joey gives him flat eyes. “That’s what you’re focusin’ on, Chandler? Not that they’re”—he takes a closer look—“banana flavored? What?”

             Chandler inspects the wrappers. “Really? Wow, imagine having ‘condom taste tester’ on your resumé.”

            Joey wants nothing more right now than to pull Chandler into his lap and kiss him. And maybe a pizza.

            “So, what do you guys wanna do first?” Ross asks, stepping into their room.

            “I wanna eat,” Joey says.

            “To the surprise and shock of absolutely no one,” Chandler quips. Joey sort of glares at him, and Chandler just smiles in a way that makes Joey want to kiss him even more.

            After giving Rachel a few minutes to freshen up, they head down to the dining hall, which might be the most magical thing Joey’s ever seen in his entire life. Not only is the plethora of lush foods a sight to behold, but the dining hall itself is exquisite, with crystal chandeliers and wood flooring and folded napkins. At the back of the room is a wall of sliding glass doors that open up to a luxurious bay area.

            Joey is much more interested in the food than the aesthetics though. He piles his plate perilously high with delicious foods from the buffet and carries it to where Chandler’s seated. Chandler lifts an eyebrow at the sight of Joey’s plate. “Does that come with an EKG machine?”

           “Very funny,” Joey mutters around a mouthful of rich, red meat. Phoebe would hate watching this, he thinks.

            After dinner, they head over to the casino where Rachel plays the slot machines, and the guys huddle around the craps table. Ross’ luck is abysmal, but Chandler hits a winning streak that makes him fifty bucks richer. Joey plays it safe and watches Chandler from the sidelines.

            By the time Ross leaves to see how Rachel’s faring on the slots, Chandler’s won a hundred dollars. When it’s Chandler’s turn to shoot again, Joey feels confident enough to offer him a bit of advice: “You oughta go all or nothin’ on this one.”

            Chandler makes a face. “Are you stupid? Why?”

            “‘Cause you’ve been pretty lucky—”

            “I know! I’m tempting fate!”

            “But if you win, you get double. If you lose, you’re not really losin’ anything ‘cause it’s not your money.”

            Chandler just stares at him. “I’m sure that made perfect sense in your head.” He ignores Joey’s advice, places a safe pass line bet, rolls the dice.

            Seven.

            “Yes!”

            “See, I told ya! Go all in!”

            Chandler’s excited enough to actually heed Joey’s advice this time, still giddy from his winning streak. “Alright, but if I lose I’m gonna kill you.” He places the bet, rolls the dice. Joey holds his breath, because there’s a slight chance that Chandler might actually be serious about that.

            The dice land on the table. Two and six: Easy Eight.

            Chandler swallows hard. “Joe, I hope you’ve lived a good life,” he warns, taking the dice again for his next roll.

            “Hey, there’s a lotta ways to roll an eight,” Joey explains, as if he’s suddenly a craps master. “Like, five.” He isn’t sure if he’s trying to reassure Chandler or himself; he’d really like to not die tonight.

            Chandler tosses the dice and makes a very flattering whining sound when the dice hit the far wall. Joey shuts his eyes, too nervous to look at the outcome. Chandler must have his eyes squeezed shut too, because when the stickman announces the result of the roll—“Hard Eight”—Chandler shouts “Yes!”

            Joey opens his eyes, pleased that he’s going to remain alive tonight. That’s when Chandler turns to him, grabs his face, and kisses him hard on the mouth.  It feels like a reversal of their first New Year’s kiss, quick with no real trace of passion, but Joey’s going to take what he can get because _Chandler kissed him_ —voluntarily—and he’s never getting over this.

            Chandler’s winning streak soon comes to an unceremonious end, leaving him with two hundred extra dollars padding his wallet. He’s grinning, ridiculously proud of himself as they head back up to their room. Joey’s still reeling from the kiss, his lips tingling. He wonders if it meant anything.

            They spend an hour or two in their room watching television on the enormous screen. The couch is a little cramped, Joey notices, which forces them together. Not that he minds one bit, but Chandler might have some reservations about being so close to Joey. He doesn’t seem to care, though. Joey’s battling the urge to drape his arm around Chandler’s shoulders, but he thinks that would be too much.

            Joey doesn’t know how to do this, and that terrifies him. He’s always been able to get dates and flirt with women without having to second-guess himself. But Chandler’s not a woman. Chandler’s also his best friend, and it’s that exact reason Joey can’t mess this up. He doesn’t know what the kiss meant—if it meant anything at all—so he’s wary of assuming Chandler is okay with randomly being kissed by his roommate, especially when Chandler had made it clear that he didn’t want to fool around anymore.

            As if reading his mind, Chandler gets up from the couch and stretches; Joey gets a tease of bare skin when his shirt rises up. “I’m gonna change,” he says, digging through his suitcase for a fresh set of clothes. “Find somethin’ for us to do in here, would you?”

            Joey’s mouth goes impossibly dry at the thought of what he’d _really_ like to do with Chandler. He manages a nod before Chandler shuts himself in the bathroom. Joey gets up from the couch and searches the mini-bar for any sort of alcoholic beverages to calm his nerves. He finds them in spades. He grabs a beer bottle, pops it open, and opens one of the doors on the entertainment center.

            Bad idea—it’s loaded with porn videos. He slams the door shut and takes a long swig of beer.

            Joey wonders if the writing desk might have something of interest. He slides open the drawer and sifts through brochures, pens, and take-out leaflets before finding a deck of cards. The cards actually don’t have dirty pictures on them, which surprises him, since everything else here is pretty much geared toward getting people to have sex. Even the bedsheets seem to encourage guests to stay in bed all weekend—the thread count is probably greater than the tri-state population. 

            Chandler comes out of the bathroom in his pajamas, and Joey’s actually angry about it. How is it humanly possible to look so attractive in an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants? “Find anything?” Chandler asks, oblivious to Joey’s internal lusting.

            “Uh—uh, yeah, we could play poker!” Joey says, holding up the deck of cards. An idea pops into his head, and he grins. “No, wait, _strip_ poker!”

            Chandler makes a face like the mere suggestion repulses him. “I’m not playing strip poker with you.”

            “You were on a winnin’ streak just fifteen minutes ago!”

            “A streak that ended, which is why we’re here and not still in the casino,” Chandler reminds him. He notices the beer that Joey’s holding. “Where’d you get the beer?” Joey answers by opening the mini-bar. “Dude! You know you have to pay for whatever you take out of there, right?”

            Joey shrugs. “You got two hundred bucks to spend.”

            Chandler looks angry for a moment, then his expression softens, and he shrugs in surrender. “Good point.” He digs through the fridge, finds a pouch of a pre-made pina colada and squeezes it into an empty glass. There’s no straws, so he’s forced to eat it with a spoon like it’s some sort of dessert.

            Joey steals a spoonful in an attempt to be flirtatious. “If you like pina coladas, and gettin’ caught in the rain—”

            “No! I hate that song.”

            Joey can’t help but chuckle. “Why?”

            “Have you actually listened to it? Like, really listened? It’s basically about a dude who’s bored with his wife, so he decides to have an affair through the personals. Except the ad he answers ends up being his wife’s.” Chandler gestures wildly with his free hand. “So she was sick of him too! And they think it’s the funniest thing! Neither one of them realizes, ‘Wow, they were totally ready to cheat on me! Imagine if they’d answered someone else’s ad!’ But I guess that wouldn’t make such a catchy song!”

            Joey feels bad for laughing now when he remembers that Chandler’s parents’ divorce was the result of his father’s affair.

            They start out the evening playing regular, not-naked poker, but at some point in the night the alcohol eroded their ability to be embarrassed, so after three drinks or so the clothes started coming off.

            Well, Joey’s clothes, at least. “Damn it!” He has no idea how he’s losing so badly here, especially since Chandler’s on his third drink by now. It’s hard enough for Joey to distinguish a three from an eight while he’s sober.

            Chandler leans back against the foot of the bed, raises an eyebrow. “Lose ‘em,” he says with a grin.

            This really was not the ideal “first time being naked in front of Chandler” scenario Joey had been imagining; he thought there’d be more romance, maybe the possibility of sex. He pushes his boxers down over his hips, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot for losing a game he suggested. In his defense, he really thought Chandler was going to lose when alcohol was involved. At least he got Chandler to take his socks off. “All right, you win,” Joey grumbles, pushing his wager of honey-roasted peanuts into Chandler’s massive pile of winnings. He’s really glad they aren’t playing with money.

            Joey’s sitting awkwardly to shield his barest of skin from Chandler’s appraising stare. “Aw, Joe, you aren’t shy, are you? ‘Cause”—Chandler blatantly looks him up and down, all subtlety gone—“you shouldn’t be.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “God, you’re so hot. It’s like you’re hewed out of marble.”

            Joey blinks way more times than is necessary. “What? You—you really think so?” He doesn’t know what “hewed” means, but Chandler says the word like it’s something reverent, so Joey’s taking it as a compliment.

            “C’mon, you really don’t notice how people look at you?” Chandler finishes his drink before he says any more. “Since we got here, everybody’s been staring at you, and then they look at me like ‘how’d he get _him_?’” He swings a hand out at Joey, as if making some sort of point.

            Joey’s brow furrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

            Chandler scoffs a humorless laugh. “Well, look at me.”

            He’s looking; Joey feels like all he ever does is look at Chandler. “Yeah?”

            Chandler studies the blank look on Joey’s face. “You know you’re basically perfect, right?” He says it like it’s insultingly obvious.

            Joey’s breath catches in his throat while his brain processes the implications in that sentence. “W—well, what about you? You’re funny and smart on top of bein’ hot! That’s way better than just bein’ hot!”

            Chandler stares at him, his brow creased impossibly further. “You think I’m hot?” he sputters out. There must be something catastrophically wrong with the universe if Chandler has no idea how attractive he is.

            “You really have no idea, do you?” Joey mumbles. He grabs his boxers before he stands up, then he awkwardly steps into them while trying to walk away.  This is not a conversation that he wants to have while he’s naked. 

            “No, wait, don’t go! Are you mad ‘cause I won? ‘Cause I can lose! I can lose big—” Joey’s got his back turned when Chandler makes a distressed grunting sound. Joey turns to see him lying on the floor. “Oops.”

            “What happened?”

            “I tipped too far.” Chandler demonstrates the concept with his hands before pushing himself up. “Whoa. Floor. Moving.” The expression on Joey’s face must not be too encouraging, because Chandler slumps his shoulders and looks away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have said anything.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “God, why do I drink? It just makes me stupid!”

            “I don’t think you’re stupid,” Joey says softly, opting to sit beside him on the floor at the foot of the bed. “You’re so smart. I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about half the time.”

            Chandler makes a disgusted sound in his throat. “So smart I can’t even take my own advice.”

            “About what? Maybe I can help.”

            Chandler’s hand tightens in his hair, his back curved a little as his face goes through some sort of complicated wince. He lets out a sigh through his nose, straightens up, and opens his eyes. After a terse moment of silence, he says, “This shouldn’t even be a thing,” very angrily, as if he’s furious with himself for having an emotion. “Why is this a thing? I thought I—” Chandler stops himself, turning his head to look at Joey with unfettered anger. “This is all your fault!”

            Joey blinks, his eyes wide in disbelief. “Me? What did I do?”

            “You had to kiss me and make everything”—he struggles for the word—“something it isn’t.”

            Joey feels his heart in his throat. “I’m sorry, Chandler,” he croaks out, struggling to keep his voice even. “If I knew it was gonna bother you so much, I wouldn’t have done it. I never wanted to make you feel”—he doesn’t know exactly what Chandler’s feeling so he just goes with—“like this.”

            Chandler lets out a dark laugh. “I know you didn’t, Joe.” He shakes his head. “I pictured this in my head so many times, but...I never pictured it going right, y’know?” Joey doesn’t know, but he tries nodding anyway to keep Chandler talking. “Maybe it’s not supposed to.  It wouldn’t make sense for you to want me,” Chandler says, the words catching in his throat. “I’ve always known that.”

            Joey freezes, his heartbeat stuttering in his chest at the thought that his wildest dreams might not be too far off the mark. “You—you want me?”

            Chandler sits there quietly for a moment, and Joey watches his eyes tighten and his lips purse in silent deliberation. Then Chandler turns to face him. Before Joey can comprehend his next move, Chandler reaches out, his hands shaping to Joey’s face, and pulls until their mouths are pushed together.

            ...

            Holy shit.

            Lightbulb moment of the century.

            Chandler has a crush on Joey.

            It’s incomprehensible because it’s impossible. Yet there it is.

            Joey kisses him back after a moment of stunned shock, and it’s good, so damn good. He doesn’t know how he ever lived without it. He wants to drown in it, let it fill his lungs, wants the heat and electricity to fuse into his blood so he can feel a constant surge of it. He slides a hand around the back of Chandler’s head and curls his fingers in his hair.

            “How drunk are you?” Joey hazards around the kiss, because Chandler’s not the only one who can ruin a moment by saying something ridiculous.

            “Drunk enough to give into temporary insanity.” Chandler rises up on his knees to make kissing easier. Joey winds his arms around Chandler’s waist.

            “This isn’t like before, is it?” Joey asks. Chandler’s fingers are cold against his skin as he presses them over Joey’s shoulders. “When it didn’t mean anything?”

            Chandler breaks away, staring at him in surprise. “It always meant something to me,” he murmurs, almost too quiet for Joey to hear.

            Joey gazes up at him with a wounded look.  “So how come you stopped?”

            “Because it wasn’t enough. Being with you...like that...” He sighs, looks away for a moment. “I wanted it to mean more to you.”

            “And you thought it didn’t?” Maybe Joey’s not as obvious as he thinks he is about this stuff. Or maybe Chandler is just really, really oblivious.

            “Why would it?”

             Chandler’s hands have drifted to Joey’s chest, and Joey covers them with his own. “‘Cause I like you, Chandler.”

            Chandler’s lips fall open in shock, and he actually breaks away from the embrace. “What? When were you ever gonna tell me?”

            “And let you know I like you? Uh, _never_!”

             Chandler frowns, his eyes tightening. “Yeah, I can see why you’d wanna keep that one tucked away.”

            Joey winces as if the words have hurt him. “No, no, I don’t mean it like that! I’m not embarrassed about liking you.” He reaches for Chandler’s hands again, and Chandler gives them to him. “At first I thought it would go away, y’know, but the more time I spent with you the more I liked you. But if I put myself out there and you didn’t feel the same way...” He shrugs, lets the end of that sentence hang in the air.

            “So you thought, ‘let Chandler do it, because he has such a great track record with asking people out’?”

            “You told me not to, remember?”

            “When?”

            “When I told you I liked somebody and you said to find out how they feel first.”

            Chandler doesn’t have an immediate response to that besides creasing his brow. Then his mouth drops open again. “Wait, that was me? You were secretly asking _me_ for advice on how to ask me out?”

            “Well, it sounds stupid when you say it like that,” Joey protests. Chandler seems to have lost his grip on the conversation. “I don’t know how you didn’t figure it out sooner! I got you a freakin’ recliner for your birthday! Who does that?”

            Chandler nearly jumps out of Joey’s arms. “What? That was—That’s what that was?”

            “Yeah, my big gesture, like you told Ross to do for Rachel.”

            “You left out the very crucial ‘telling the other person you like them’ part!”

            “Well, I’m tellin’ you now: I like you, Chandler. I like you a lot.”

            They’re officially ten-year-olds and they need to stop.

            Chandler smiles, exuberant with joy. “Well, now I don’t feel so silly doodling ‘Mr. Chandler Tribbiani’ on the back of my chemistry notebook.” 

            They make their way onto the bed, lying side by side and sharing chaste kisses. Chandler’s mouth is hot and wet on Joey’s, and he lets Joey’s hands trace webs over his spine. Their mouths meet in gentle pecks while hands roam over skin.  Joey is amazed at how easy it is being with Chandler this way; he doesn’t need to use any special moves or lines or pretend to be something he’s not. Everything just comes so naturally, like they’ve been doing this their whole lives. He wonders if it’s this easy for Chandler too.

            Chandler’s hands and lips have stilled, the fingers of his left hand loosely curled in Joey’s hair. “So, hey,” Joey murmurs after a moment, his eyes closed, “are we gonna keep doin’ this once the weekend’s over?” His answer comes in the form of a quiet snore from Chandler, who has somehow managed to fall asleep amidst all the kissing and touching.

            Chandler’s streak of good luck had to run out eventually.

            Joey laughs to himself and settles into bed beside him. He doesn’t need to dream tonight.


	12. The One With the Third Nipple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (or The One Where Joey and Chandler...You Know)

**Chapter 12: The One with the Third Nipple**

Chandler’s memory is a hot, flesh-colored blur. He remembers strip poker, pina coladas, and the heat of Joey’s skin under his hands. Even when he’s slightly hung over, he can figure out how those three things might have worked together last night. There’s a foreign warmth pressed against him now, and Chandler realizes in stark horror that it’s _Joey_ , who’s curled around the curve of his body. Chandler’s knee-jerk reaction to waking up in bed with another person seems to be the startle response, and that sounds really sad now that he thinks about it. He’s going to stop thinking about it.

Joey’s got his face nuzzled against the back of Chandler’s neck, arms linked around his waist. Chandler should probably find it disconcerting that Joey still doesn’t have a shirt on, but Joey’s body is a thing to be admired, so he’s going to enjoy it the best he can while facing the opposite direction. Joey is close enough that Chandler can feel the foreign line of his arousal pressed against his ass. Chandler fights the urge to push his hips back into it, but it’s Joey, and, really, how many mornings has Chandler woke up hard with his legs tangled in the sheets from a wet dream about the guy? Too many to count, if he’s honest with himself.

He decides one little touch should be fine. Chandler nudges his hips back, and, oh God, Joey’s dick is _right there_ and why did he think this was a good idea? His legs shift against each other to bring some sort of friction-based relief to his own swollen cock. It’s bad enough that he has to wake up with a boner when he’s alone—does he really need one while he’s got Joey in his bed? That just seems cruel, like biology has conspired to humiliate him at every turn. Sure, Joey’s hard too, but Chandler feels like Joey’s always sporting an erection, and this train of thought is really not helping Chandler focus on things that aren’t Joey’s dick.

Joey stirs a little, pulls Chandler in tighter, and now Joey’s chest is pressed against Chandler’s back and other body parts are touching and Chandler is reevaluating his entire life. He refuses to orgasm like this; Joey ought to at least be awake. In a whisper, Chandler croaks out, “Joe?”

He is absolutely not ready for Joey to kiss the back of his neck and answer, “Yeah?”

Chandler flails his arms and twists around in Joey’s embrace. “You’re awake? How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough.” Joey grins, lets his hands settle over the small of Chandler’s back. “You get pretty frisky when you’re asleep, huh?”

Chandler scowls, his face heating up. Now they’re facing each other, and this is so not what Chandler wanted when he wished Joey’s dick wasn’t touching his ass. He swallows thickly and tries not to let his gaze flicker down to where their hips meet, but it’s pretty much impossible because their dicks are touching through their clothes. Chandler looks at Joey and feels his face turn insufferably redder. “I didn’t say anything too stupid last night, did I?”

“Depends on what you consider stupid.”

“Oh, you know, spontaneous confessions best not spoken aloud.”

“Then yeah, you did.”

Chandler groans and shuts his eyes in pain.

“But hey, I’m stupid too,” Joey says with a smile before covering Chandler’s mouth with his own. Chandler lets his palms mold to the curve of Joey’s arms as Joey starts to kiss the line of his jaw. He moans when Joey’s mouth trails over his neck, and when Joey dips his tongue into the hollow of his throat Chandler groans a sound he’s absolutely going to deny making.

Joey tips his head to look at Chandler, his lips uncoupled and his hair in morning disarray. “I wanted to ask you somethin’ last night, but you fell asleep.” He glances away for a second. “Would it be so bad if we still did this after the weekend’s over? Y’know, like, if we were a couple?” He mumbles the last part, his gaze flitting from left to right. Chandler’s brain has decided to forget every word it knows, rendering him speechless. Joey fills the silent void with words. “I mean, I see how happy Ross and Rachel are together, and I thought maybe you and I could—could be like that too. Or at least we could try.”

Chandler finally manages to string a coherent sentence together. “You want us to date?”

“How different would it be? We already live together. We get along great. All that’s changin’ is that we’d have sex with each other instead of other people.”

Chandler cannot afford to be distracted right now by the thought of having sex with Joey. But that’s what he focuses on, because he’s Chandler. “You—you want to have sex...with me?”

Joey lifts an eyebrow. “Chandler, c’mon, look who you’re talkin’ to.”

A fair point.

“But you’ve—you’ve thought about it?”

“All the time.”

Chandler doesn’t know what to do with this. The idea that Joey thinks about fucking him—let alone “all the time”—is staggeringly, mind-bendingly hot. “With me?” he finally says, remembering how to make words come out of his mouth instead of gasping noises.

Joey chuckles. “Well, yeah! I think it’d be great, y’know? The stuff we did before was pretty hot, right?”

Chandler manages a nod. “Do you—do you wanna do it now?” he squeaks out.

“I’m flattered you want me to put my cock in you, Chandler,” Joey murmurs at his ear, “but I like what we have goin’ now.”

“At what point this year were you replaced by a pod person?”

Joey breathes laughter into his hair. “C’mon, you don’t think this is nice? Just bein’ like this?”

“I’m hard enough to drill for diamonds, but, yeah, it’s nice.”

Joey reaches down to verify this. Chandler sort of jolts at the touch. “Want me to take care of that?” His fingers are warm pressure points on Chandler’s dick. “Oh, hey, then after we can go downstairs to the breakfast buffet!” Typical Joey.

Chandler pushes his hips into Joey’s hand, which squeezes and strokes him through his clothes. A soft groan escapes Chandler’s throat, and he licks his lips. Joey tugs his pajama pants down to curl his hand around Chandler’s cock. The heat of Joey’s fingers goes all the way through him in a full-body shiver. Joey slides his fist down to the hilt, and Chandler jerks his hips forward. It’s good—so good—to have Joey touch him like this again; Chandler knows he’s not going to last very long at all. “Joe...”

Joey covers Chandler’s mouth with his own as his hand strokes and twists and squeezes. Chandler moans around the kiss and drags his fingers through Joey’s hair. He thinks he may have actually died and gone to heaven. Joey’s free hand pulls his boxers down, and he scoots forward a little to bring their hips together. Chandler gasps around his mouth, because Joey’s jerking them both off and their dicks are touching. Joey tips his head forward, his brow pressed against Chandler’s, and sighs a soft sound into the silence. Chandler grabs Joey’s arm to feel the strength there as he works them both in his palm.

“You, uh, you close?” Joey asks.

“Yeah,” Chandler breathes out.

Joey’s mouth moves, greedy and hot, over Chandler’s before he speaks again. “I wanna watch,” he says, licking his lips.

Chandler feels his insides go all twisty. “Really?”

“Yeah, that’s, like, my second favorite part.”

Chandler almost asks “what’s the first?” before realizing what the answer would be. He doesn’t do his best thinking in the morning, that’s for sure.

Joey’s slow, controlled, his hand stroking up and down and squeezing and touching. Chandler squirms, his hips thrusting into Joey’s hand. Joey drags his thumb over the head of his cock; a needy moan shakes out of Chandler before he bites it back between his teeth as he comes.

Chandler’s still resurfacing when he hears Joey sigh his name, and his eyes blink open to watch Joey fall apart. “So good,” he murmurs, his hips pushing forward into his hand to wring out the aftershocks of orgasm.

“I _am_ great at lying in bed and doing nothing,” Chandler says, still out of breath.

Joey takes a few moments to breathe and come back down to earth before kissing him again. Chandler slides his arm around Joey’s back, fingers tracing lines down his vertebrae. He doesn’t know how it’s possible to still be turned on after orgasming like that. All he can think about is climbing on top of Joey and...

“So, you probably wanna hit up that breakfast buffet, huh?”

Joey sits up with all the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. “Yeah! Just lemme get a shower first!” He hops out of bed and rushes off to the bathroom before skidding to a halt. “Wait, you wanna get in there with me?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Joe.”

“Okay, okay.”

#

“I still think you’re wrong,” Joey says over breakfast in the dining hall, continuing their argument from earlier this morning while they were freshening up.

Chandler rolls his eyes and stabs his fork rather menacingly into his pancakes. “Because you have the imagination of a six-year-old. _Jurassic Park_ could not actually happen.”

Joey scowls at him. “You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause that’s what Ross would say.” Before Chandler can argue, he says, “What about the thing with the mosquitos?”

“Yes, because that many mosquitos somehow managed to bite every species of marketable dinosaur _and_ get stuck in tree sap.”

“Well, okay, maybe you couldn’t get a whole park of ‘em, but what about just one dinosaur?” Joey wants to believe even a fraction of the science in _Jurassic Park_ is plausible, because, hello, real dinosaurs?

Chandler shakes his head in a way that says he’s embarrassed to be a part of this conversation.

Joey spots Ross and Rachel rounding the corner from the elevators. “Fine, we’ll just ask the expert.” He stands up and waves them over to the table. “Ross! Rach!”

“Hey, you guys!” Rachel smiles and pulls up a chair next to Chandler.

“Ross, could _Jurassic Park_ actually happen?” Joey asks before Ross even has time to sit down.

Ross just glares at him like he blames Joey for everything wrong in the world. “I’m in a good mood today, so I’m just going to let that one go.”

Chandler snickers into his orange juice.

“Good mood, huh?” Joey grins, then he has a moment of realization. “What flavor of condoms did you guys get? Ours are banana.”

Chandler groans.

“Joey!” Rachel’s on the other side of the table, so she can’t smack him for that.

Ross mutters, “Blueberry,” under his breath.

“They _are_ different in each room!” Joey exclaims. He shoots a haughty glance at Chandler. “I told you.”

“Glad that mystery’s solved,” Chandler quips.

“So what about you guys?” Rachel asks in an incredibly smooth subject change. “What have you been up to?”

Joey’s about to declare the wonderful news that he and Chandler are dating when Chandler casually says, “Oh, not much. A little of this, a little of that. You know they’ve got cable here?” He cuts into his pancakes all daintily like he hasn’t just told a bold-faced lie.

To his credit, Joey tries not to feel dejected over this, but it’s a wasted effort. He can’t understand why Chandler would want to hide the fact that they’re dating from two of their best friends. Ross might crack jokes, sure, but he’d be supportive. Could Chandler be embarrassed about it?

Joey’s never been in this position before. No one has ever been embarrassed to date him; hell, even his one-night stands brag about hitting the sheets with him. Rachel probably gushed to Monica and Phoebe about dating Ross, and that’s _Ross_ ; the man studies dinosaurs, for Christ’s sake.

He shovels in forkfuls of food to keep himself quiet.

Rachel stands up when she’s finished with breakfast. “Ross, I wanna check out the tanning booths they’ve got here.” She gives him a flirty smile, leans over the table. “Maybe you can help me put my lotion on,” she murmurs before strutting away.

Ross has some sort of conniption trying to catch up to her. “Rach, wait!”

Joey chuckles, although a small part of him wishes he could flirt with Chandler like that. But, apparently, Chandler might actually die if Joey speaks a word about them being together. He frowns, prods his fork at a lump of jam leftover on his plate. “Hey, Chandler?”

“Yeah?”

“How come you didn’t”—he shrugs, trying his best to seem casual—“tell them we’re a couple now?”

Chandler’s eyes widen. “Because we can’t tell them? We can’t tell anyone?”

Joey stares at him, nonplussed. “Why not? I thought we—Okay, now you got me all confused.”

“No, we are. We are.” Chandler shakes his head and reaches for Joey’s hands. Joey gives them to him, reassured—albeit slightly—by this small gesture of affection. “We’re doing this. I want this. Just...we can’t tell anybody. Not yet, at least.” He moves his thumbs in small circles over Joey’s skin. “I think it’s a good idea to take things slow right now. I mean, what we have here is really good, and maybe part of why it’s so good is because it’s just ours, y’know?”

Joey nods, understanding, because he’s a reasonable boyfriend willing to meet in the middle. “Yeah, okay, we’ll keep it to ourselves for a while.” They’re heading to the elevators when Joey asks, “So, was there anything you wanted to do today?”

Chandler thinks about it. “Nothing in particular. Why? Did you want to check out the water park? You do know you can’t swim naked in a public pool, right?”

He chuckles, presses the button for their floor once they’ve caught a lift. “C’mon, Chandler, I’m not a total idiot.”  
  
“Then explain the incident at Phoebe’s birthday party.”

Joey scoffs. “It’s not my fault my suit came off in the water!” He swears they’ve had this conversation a million times.

Chandler just rolls his eyes, his lips pressed together to hide his smile.

“But, uh, I was askin’ ‘cause if you didn’t have anything planned, maybe we could stay in our room for a while.” He sort of mumbles the words, even though the elevator is empty.

“You wanna watch more TV, don’t you?”

The doors open, and they step out into the hallway. “I wanna be able to touch you and kiss you and...do stuff.”

“Well, I’m sure this place has a ‘no doing stuff in the pool’ policy.”

“See?” Joey lets him inside first, then follows after him. He latches his mouth to the back of Chandler’s neck, and Chandler lets out a shaky moan. Joey guides him over to the couch and pulls Chandler down with him. “Ooh, let’s see if there’s a game on!” He flips through the channels, keeping one hand on the remote and the other arm linked around Chandler’s waist.

“You _did_ just want to watch TV,” Chandler whines. “I feel used.”

“Hey, I can do two things at once.” Joey finds Chandler’s fingers and entwines them with his own while searching for something entertaining to watch.

“You’re quite the multi-tasker.” Chandler scoots down to find a more comfortable position, and Joey moves to accommodate him, letting Chandler lay his head on his stomach. Joey’s a little embarrassed about the fact that Chandler can probably feel him hard against his spine. But Chandler hasn’t said anything about it, so Joey’s just going to pretend he’s blissfully unaware.

They spend a good portion of the day curled up together on the couch, watching TV and playing rock-paper-scissors to determine who answers the door for room service or makes a trip to the vending machine—Chandler loses almost every time. When night falls, they’re still on the couch in front of the television, and Joey’s starting to get handsy. He’s been thinking about touching Chandler all day—it’s amazing that Chandler hasn’t mentioned anything about the erection pressed against his back. Maybe Chandler’s having the same thoughts too; Joey really hopes so.

It seems like it might just...happen, that they’re in a place now where they can touch each other and not feel burdened by anything but lust. A place where it feels right, perfect in its own clumsy, silly way, because Chandler’s involved, which means it’s going to be awkward or messy or loud or even all three. But Joey can be all of those things too and then some. He has his own brand of quirks and eccentricities that fuses perfectly with Chandler’s. Or at least he thinks so. But he doesn’t feel any pressure here. With Chandler, he can just...be. And that’s going to help a lot when they’re exploring each other’s bodies.

“Y’know what’s weird?” Joey asks. Chandler hums inquisitively. “We’re doin’ the same thing here that we do at home, except, y’know, touching.”

There’s a pause, and Joey recognizes it as the second or two Chandler takes to debate whether or not to give a sarcastic reply. He opts for the sincere. “I like it better this way.”

Joey smiles despite himself. “Yeah, me too. Why haven’t we been doin’ this the whole time?”

“Because somebody couldn’t just admit he had a crush,” Chandler says.

“Hey, you could’a said somethin’ too.”

“I didn’t say it was you.” Joey lets his fingers travel from Chandler’s hair to the bare skin of his arm. Chandler doesn’t flinch or pull away, so Joey runs his palm over his denim-clad thigh. He squirms, but Joey isn’t sure if it’s in a good, yes-more-please way or not.

“Is that—is that okay?”

“Yeah, Joe, of course. You couldn’t tell?”

“You’re hard to read when I can’t see your face.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to”—Chandler sits up and flips over so he’s facing Joey—“fix that, won’t I?” His grin is so smug and self-satisfied that Joey can’t help but kiss him. Chandler definitely doesn’t seem to be opposed to this. Joey cups his face in one hand, the other sliding up the curve of his thigh. Chandler moans around his lips, then gasps when Joey’s hand sneaks into the back pocket of his jeans and squeezes. “Oh God, that’s—”

“Good?”

“Really good.” Chandler tilts his chin so their lips can meet. Joey squeezes his ass again, and Chandler nips Joey’s bottom lip between his teeth.

“So I can do this?”

“You can do everything,” Chandler breathes over his mouth.

Joey has absolutely no idea how to handle this. Did Chandler just give him permission to fuck him? He thinks that might have happened, but there’s a deficit of blood flowing to his brain right now, so he has to think about it. That’s what Joey needs to be thinking about, not the very real possibility of being inside of him and hearing his own name chanted like a prayer when Chandler comes.  
  
A knock at the door makes Chandler sit up and swear through his teeth. He doesn’t bother to play for it, just crawls off of Joey and grabs the empty room service tray to cover the evidence of arousal. When he swings the door open, he’s surprised to see Rachel and Ross on the other side.

Rachel gives him a curious look, her gaze raking up from the tray to Chandler’s face, then back to the tray. “What are you... Why—”

“Oh, we were playing a game,” Chandler explains. “He was Darth Vader, and I was Captain America.” He lifts the tray up a little. “See my shield?”

“I had a cardboard tube I was usin’ as a lightsaber,” Joey adds, sitting up. “From the paper towels.”

“Where is it?” Ross asks in a way that insinuates he’s just playing along.

“I threw it over the balcony when he started cheating,” Chandler says.  
  
There’s a moment of silence before anyone speaks again. “So, uh, we’re gonna go see a movie at the theater here,” Rachel says.

“There’s a movie theater here?”

“Yeah, it’s tucked away surprisingly well,” Ross says.

“Do you guys wanna come or do you have plans?”

Joey tries to give him a look that conveys their “plans” for the evening, but Chandler doesn’t even glance over his shoulder. “We’re just gonna hang out here for a while,” he says. “Maybe find Joey another lightsaber.”

“Alright, well, have fun!” Rachel says.

Ross chuckles, and, yeah, he definitely knows this is an elaborate ruse to hide a boner. “May the force be with you.”

Chandler’s mouth scrunches up into a sassy scowl when he shuts the door.

“Why’d you have to say I was Darth Vader?” Joey complains as Chandler comes over to the couch. “You could’a said I was Batman, and I could use the coasters as those little things he throws at people.”

“Batarangs?”

“Yeah, what’d I say?”

Chandler gives him a look. “‘Little things he throws at people.’”

Joey shrugs. “Close enough.” When Chandler’s closed the distance between them, his hands in Joey’s hair, Joey says, “So, when you said I could do anything, did you—did you mean it?”

Chandler makes his “you’re an idiot” face. “Yeah.”

“‘Cause...they’re gonna be gone for a while, and we got a bed.” Joey vaguely gestures in the direction of the bed, just in case Chandler forgot what the word means. “We could...do stuff.”  
  
Chandler lifts his gaze. “So, uh, we should close the curtains?”

Joey chuckles. “No way, I wanna see you.”

“Nobody else does!” Chandler gets up and rushes to the sliding glass doors. Joey stops him before he can pull the curtains shut.

“Hey, relax, no one can look in at us. See?” They’re high up enough that no other nearby buildings have a clear view to the inside of the room. “Just me.” He presses his mouth over the back of Chandler’s neck.

Chandler sort of squirms out of the embrace. “Yeah, that’s—that’s the problem,” he murmurs, sitting on the end of the bed.

“You don’t wanna...do stuff?”

“No, Joe, I do, but...” He looks away, stares at the handfuls of the comforter he’s holding. “I sorta...have a third nipple.” He mumbles the last part, hoping that Joey won’t catch it, but Joey’s pretty attuned to this habit of Chandler’s.

“A third nipple?” He tries to picture it in his head, but the image doesn’t come together. “Does it do anything?”

“Aside from make me incredibly self-conscious? No.”

Joey moves over to him so he’s standing between Chandler’s legs. “And you thought, what, I wouldn’t wanna be with you anymore?”

“Well”—Chandler shrugs half-heartedly—“yeah.”

“Chandler, that’s ridiculous. Why would I—” He stops, shakes his head. “Trust me, that doesn’t change anything.” Joey kneels on the bed, his knees on either side of Chandler so he can kiss away the apprehension. He plucks open the first button on Chandler’s shirt and slips his hand inside. Chandler’s skin is hot beneath his palm, and Chandler moans into his mouth in a way that makes Joey a little dizzy. Joey eases down, straddling Chandler’s lap, and unlatches another button. His palm roams and slides over skin; his fingers find a nipple and pinch the nub. Chandler gives a little whimper around Joey’s lips, and Joey pushes his hips forward, seeking friction and finding none. He gets another button undone, his hand discovering a new stretch of bare skin when Chandler’s shirt falls open. Chandler doesn’t try to hide or cover up, just digs his fingers into Joey’s hair and kisses him harder.  
  
Joey thinks he’s the hardest he’s ever been. His eyes blink open to see that Chandler’s thighs are parted, and he is _definitely_ into this. Joey’s oddly proud of himself and insanely turned on. The heat of Chandler’s skin under his hands only fuels the fire. His fingers slip under the collar of Chandler’s shirt, casually pushing at the fabric, and—Jesus—the way Chandler falls out of his shirt and rolls his shoulders is doing so many things for Joey. He has to touch the ridges and peaks there, has to run his fingers over the jutting angles of those shoulders. A desert probably has more moisture than his mouth does right now.

Chandler looks up at him and says, “Your turn,” and it sounds so fucking dirty when the corner of his mouth is tugged into that little smirk and his hands are shoved underneath Joey’s t-shirt. His fingers push, drawing the material up, because Joey has forgotten how to do things that aren’t gaping awe-struck at Chandler. Chandler pulls Joey’s t-shirt over his head and drops it onto the floor. Joey watches the way Chandler’s throat moves when he swallows and breathes out, “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“This is—this is a thing I can just...do.” Chandler grins. “I get to take your clothes off! I’m never gonna get over that.”

Joey chuckles and starts unbuckling Chandler’s belt the best he can while he’s sitting in his lap. “Yeah, it’s pretty incredible, huh?”

“Mind-boggling.” Chandler watches his belt come free in one pull, and then Joey’s kissing him again. Joey spreads a hand over the span of Chandler’s stomach, feels the rise and fall there before Chandler’s tugging at the button of Joey’s jeans. Chandler glances up at him, his eyes seeking reassurance. “I can do this, right?”

Joey smiles and says, “You can do everything.”

Chandler exhales a shaky sound, gets the button unlatched and draws the zipper down. His hands work into the denim, and Joey feels the edge of Chandler’s palm brush over his cock. His hips jerk forward as he makes a tragic sound in the back of his throat. Chandler pushes the jeans over Joey’s hips, licks his lips when Joey’s boxers come into view, leaves his mouth half-open and, God, that’s distracting. Joey nudges Chandler backwards against the mattress so he can fold over him, trying to help Chandler with the task of undressing. He doesn’t realize this maneuver results in him lying on top of Chandler. Chandler sucks in a breath through his teeth and rolls his hips against Joey’s. Then his hands are everywhere at once: Joey’s lower back, his ass, his thighs. Chandler eases the jeans down until Joey manages to kick them off.

Joey’s brain has stopped processing beyond the realization that he’s practically naked on top of Chandler, who is also almost naked. This is the most he’s ever seen of Chandler, and he doesn’t know what to do with the fact that he gets to see _more_. Chandler’s gaze flickers down to where they’re pressed together, but Joey’s the one who breaks the silence by saying something stupid: “Y—you’re hard.”

Chandler’s face heats up. “Yeah, you, uh, you noticed that?”

Joey sort of shrugs. “Kinda hard not to. It’s...impressive.”

“Thanks, I grew it myself.”

Joey laughs; of course their relationship is going to be filled with moments like this: it’s Chandler. His hips push of their own accord—because how can he _not_ shove into that?—and Joey forces himself to move away so this moment of theirs can last longer. He climbs down the long line of Chandler’s body and presses kisses over his skin. Chandler’s voice is all breath, spitting out fragments of words as Joey’s tongue laps at the hollow of his throat and his mouth opens around nipples. Chandler digs his fingers into Joey’s back and shoulders, drags them through his hair. Joey breathes hot over the curve of Chandler’s stomach and stares at the edge of his jeans. His fingers are already pushing at the denim, unbuttoning and unzipping and tugging. Then Chandler’s wiggling his hips and kicking his way out of his jeans, and, Jesus Christ, his naked thighs are on either side of Joey’s head.

Joey sits up, staring down at Chandler’s nearly naked body in a really obvious way. He wets his lips, blinks, tries to remember how to breathe. Chandler’s feet slide on the comforter, his thighs flexing a little. Joey swallows and feels his cock twitch. He notices the rigid line of heat Chandler’s got concealed in his underwear. God, that’s furiously hot. His brain catches on the idea of tugging those briefs down and taking Chandler’s dick into his mouth, and something in his gut twists and makes his thighs squeeze together.

Chandler lifts an eyebrow. “Are you—do you need assistance?”

Joey shakes his head, pushes a hand through his hair. “I’m good. I’m good.” He sinks down, holding Chandler’s thighs in his hands and opens his mouth around the skin there. Chandler makes a choked noise, squirms under the touch. Joey grins and sucks kisses into the bare flesh of his thighs, following the tensed line of muscle. His tongue flares out, tastes a mix of skin and sweat, and Chandler wraps his fingers in Joey’s hair and hooks a leg over his shoulder.

All Joey can think about now is going down on him, and he’s fairly sure that Chandler would let him do it. But Joey’s only ever been on the receiving end of a blowjob. He doesn’t want to try something new here and fuck it up royally. At least he knows how to stick his dick into things; he’s great at that.

He hooks his fingers in the elastic of Chandler’s underwear, wraps his hands around his lower back. Joey cups the tight curve of his ass as he shoves his briefs down and over his hips. Chandler’s gasping, “Oh my God,” and soon it’s Joey’s turn, because Chandler’s naked and, holy fuck, Joey is completely incapable of handling this. He can’t remember being this hopelessly turned on since he was a teenager.

“Well, you’re not screaming. I guess that’s good.” Chandler reaches for him, and Joey feels warm hands slide into his boxers and grip his ass. He pushes his hips back into Chandler’s hands, and Chandler’s fingertips press and squeeze before shoving the shorts down entirely. Joey kicks them off and tries very hard not to think about the fact that they’re both naked. He just kisses him harder and focuses on the way Chandler’s hands are wrapped around his biceps. Chandler tips his head to the side so he can speak. “Are we gonna do this?” he asks, his voice a little shuddery.

“Do you want to?” Joey’s still not used to the idea that Chandler actually wants him.

Chandler’s face scrunches up into his “you are the stupidest person in the entire world” expression. “Are you insane? Yes! Yes! God, I want you so much, how can you not see that?” He waves a hand in the direction of his cock.

“I’m tryin’ not to look,” Joey mumbles.

“Do you want to pretend yours is the only penis in the room?”

“No, I just... Seein’ how much you want me is so hot, y’know?” he murmurs at his ear. “But I don’t wanna come just from that.”

Chandler seems worried for some reason. “So should I cover it up?”

Joey chuckles. “No, no, just—just let me...” He stops, crawls off of him and walks over to the nightstand to dig through the drawer. He hears the rustle of sheets as Chandler scoots up to the head of the bed.

Joey’s rummaging through the nightstand while Chandler traces his fingertips over the dimples in Joey’s lower back. “Can you believe they didn’t want you as Al Pacino’s butt double?” Chandler says, his fingers pressing into the flesh of Joey’s ass.

Joey huffs a laugh and pulls out a set of handcuffs from the drawer. “Whoa, we oughta use these sometime!” He turns a little to show them off to Chandler.

Chandler gives him flat eyes. “No.”

“Ah, you’re no fun,” Joey grouses, finding the bottle of lube and a strip of condoms.

“What? I am so fun! Fun’s my middle name!”

“Okay, Mr. Fun, tell me if this tastes like banana to you.” Joey tears a condom off of the strip and tosses it over his shoulder at Chandler.

Chandler frowns at the package in his hands. “No! And, banana? Really? Could they be any lazier with the phallic imagery?”

“Fine, I’ll do it.” Joey snatches the condom from him and tears the plastic open. Chandler watches him with a mix of horror and arousal as he puts the latex in his mouth to sample the flavor. Joey makes a face. “Doesn’t taste like banana at all!” he whines.

Chandler snorts a laugh and pats his arm. “Sorry, Joe.”

He ends up with his legs looped around Joey’s hips while Joey teases two slippery fingers at his entrance. Chandler makes a cracked little moan around Joey’s mouth when his fingers press in and ease him open. That might be one of the hottest sounds Joey’s ever heard. He watches the way Chandler’s face reacts, the way his teeth catch his lower lip when he bites back a moan. Joey pushes in a little deeper; Chandler grunts out a breath and presses his heels into Joey’s ass. Joey kisses him harder, his hand moving and stroking in a way that has Chandler pushing his hips into it, gripping Joey’s arms and choking out his name. Joey curls his fingers inside of him, and Chandler actually fucking _whimpers_ at that. “Joe—Joe, God, please, please...”

Joey doesn’t need much—if any—convincing to put his dick in Chandler. It’s pretty much all he’s been thinking about for the last eight hours. He replaces his fingers with the head of his cock, and the breath catches in Chandler’s throat as Joey slides in, and, oh God, that’s so fucking good it’s obscene. It’s official: their friendship is ruined. There’s no coming back from the way Chandler’s making those shuddery, whimpering noises around Joey’s mouth. He digs his fingers into Joey’s hair, his hands tight in stillness.

“You okay?” Joey breathes into the curve of his throat.

“Y—yeah, just—just let me...” Chandler shifts underneath him, holds onto Joey’s shoulders as he adjusts his hips. “Oh God, okay, that’s—” He shuts his eyes and settles against the mattress. “I can see why this is a thing that people do.”

“So it’s good? I’m not hurtin’ you or anything?”

“You start moving, and don’t you dare stop,” Chandler threatens, his voice already wrecked.

Joey doesn’t need much convincing. He sinks deeper, groans a low, punched-out noise when he’s buried all the way in, and Chandler moans in appreciation, his nails biting into Joey’s skin. They find a rhythm that works for them, that drives gutted huffs of breath out of Chandler and sends sparks crackling up Joey’s spine. Joey’s trying not to lose the last few fragments of control he has, because this is the hottest thing he’s ever been a part of, and he really wants it to last longer than thirty seconds. But Chandler’s moaning and gasping around his mouth, clawing at his back, and pushing his hips into Joey’s thrusts. Joey’s surprised that Chandler is so...loud. He can’t remember hearing these kind of sounds through the wall of his bedroom; even when they fooled around before, Chandler had always been sort of quiet. Not that Joey’s complaining, of course; he’s proud that he can make Chandler cry out shaky bursts of words that he’d probably be embarrassed about if Joey wasn’t inside of him.

Joey moves a hand from around Chandler’s thigh to curl around the jut of his cock, and Chandler’s a shuddery mess of appreciation and jagged noises. “Joe, God, fuck, fuck, please, I can’t—” Chandler bends a knee back, hooks his leg over Joey’s shoulder to make the jolting pushes of their hips a little deeper. Joey sinks in again, so deep he thinks he might lose his mind, and Chandler’s gone, choking out words and praises as he comes. He doesn’t go still, just keeps pounding his hips to match Joey’s thrusts, riding out the aftershocks. Everything about Chandler’s orgasm knocks out any and all control Joey has left, and—fuck—he breaks apart, his fingers digging in wherever they’re gripped. Chandler makes a small noise of pain in his throat and slides his legs in the spaces between Joey’s own, letting him take whatever he needs as he thrusts weakly through the comedown like he doesn’t want to stop.

“Oh my God,” Chandler sighs out, all shaky and loose. Joey breathes into Chandler’s hair, and he can feel his pulse tripping beneath his skin. Chandler tips his head up, finds Joey’s lips and kisses him again, open-mouthed and messy. “That was—that was awesome. You have to try it. I’m serious.”

Joey spreads a hand on Chandler’s stomach, his fingers sliding in the wet lines of his cum. Fuck, that shouldn’t turn Joey on so much; it’s not like it’s _his_ cum. He presses his mouth over Chandler’s and breathes with him in shivery inhales and exhales. “Yeah, sure,” he mumbles, because he’s forgotten whatever Chandler just said; his brain is occupied with thoughts of swiping his tongue over Chandler’s stomach and tasting his orgasm.

“Really?” Chandler asks around his mouth. “‘Cause if you give me a few minutes I can go again.”

Maybe Joey should protest that, but damn if he isn’t curious. And he feels like they’re in a place now where he can try stuff like this with Chandler; Chandler _did_ just let Joey fuck him. Might as well return the favor. “Okay, yeah, just let me...” He trails off, because he doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. Instead he just slides down Chandler’s body and licks up the sloppy mess on his stomach.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Chandler groans, pushing himself up on shaky elbows to watch this happen. Joey runs his tongue across the sticky stripes while Chandler makes choked noises at the sight. “Oh my God,” he says again, because that pretty much covers it.

Joey looks up, licks his lips and tastes him on his tongue. Chandler’s just staring at him in a weirdly hot mix of disbelief and arousal. Joey thinks “weirdly hot” is a pretty accurate description for Chandler in general. He huffs a laugh. “Maybe you got more in common with Janice than you think.” Chandler mouth-glares at Joey and flicks his forehead. “Ow!”

  
#

It takes them a good thirty minutes to get back to the bed, because Joey gets side-tracked watching something on TV while Chandler’s rolled up in the sheets, waiting impatiently for him. He figures this is just Joey, but there’s a lot of insecurity buried here that Chandler’s not sure if he wants to unearth just yet. He doesn’t think Joey would turn down sex to watch television. Did Joey not enjoy himself? It seemed like he did, but Chandler isn’t totally sure. He’s never done this before, so Joey can’t expect him to be great the first time around and—

“It was good, right, Joe?” Chandler blurts out, wincing at how destructive it sounds when he says it out loud.

Joey peers over at him from the top of the couch. “Yeah, of course! Why would you think it wasn’t?”

“Well, I said I wanted to go again and...” He shrugs, lets the rest of that sentence fall apart.

Joey’s brow creases. “W—well, maybe I need a little more time to get ready than you do.”

Chandler has a feeling that’s the first excuse he could come up with. “Hey, y’know, it’s okay to be nervous. I was.”

“Really?”

There’s no way this could possibly be news to Joey. “Uh, yeah? How could you not notice?”

Joey just shrugs.

“Look, I won’t lie to you. It’s really awesome.” Chandler can see Joey needs a little more convincing. He looks him in the eyes and says, “It feels like pizza tastes.”

Joey thinks about this for the length of one heartbeat and practically leaps over the couch to join Chandler on the bed. Chandler’s laughing because he knew that would work. Then he has a seizing moment of panic, because what if it was only so good for him because it was Joey? He has to make good on that promise. Why does he let himself talk?  
  
Joey kisses him and drags him closer with greedy hands. “So how do you wanna do this?” His fingers trail over Chandler’s arms, making him shiver involuntarily.

“Okay, well, um, come here.” Chandler takes Joey’s face in his hands and kisses him again, easing back against the bed and bringing Joey down with him. Joey’s all muscle against him, half-hard at the prospect of continuing what they started earlier, and Chandler feels a little drunk with power that he can do that. He’s never going to get used to the knowledge that he plays a part in giving Joey erections.

His fingers snake into Joey’s hair while his other hand gropes blindly for the bottle of lube abandoned somewhere on the mattress. Joey stretches over him and hums into his mouth. Chandler’s fingers have forgotten how to be fingers, fumbling with the plastic lid until it opens for him. He gets a squirt of the slippery liquid in his palm, and, okay, he’s just going to go with that. “Alright, I’m gonna... Tell me if you don’t like it, okay?” Chandler squirms a little, surprised by the sudden greed of his own body at the thought of what’s to come. He lets his hand slide down Joey’s spine and presses two fingers into him, slow and controlled.

“Oooh,” Joey drags out in a groan, his hips pushing back against Chandler’s hand. He rubs and strokes in small circles that make Joey gather the sheets in his fists and rock his hips into the pressure. “Mm, that’s...”

“Good?” Chandler supplies hopefully.

“So good,” Joey moans, his shoulders quaking when Chandler drags his thumb down and spreads his fingers a little. “So good.” Chandler pushes in a little deeper, and now Joey’s making little whimpering noises into the bend of his shoulder, his breath hot on Chandler’s neck. “Fuck”—he nudges his hips back—“Chandler, I want...”

Chandler freezes, assuming Joey’s had enough. “You want me to stop?”

Joey shakes his head. “No, I want _you_. I wanna feel what it was like for you.”

Chandler’s heart slams manically in his chest. “I can—I can do that?”

“I told you: you can do everything, remember?” Joey crushes his mouth against Chandler’s, and now Chandler can’t think about anything but the fact that he gets to roll over and fuck his gorgeous Italian boyfriend.

My God, Chandler thinks, I have a boyfriend.

Can open, worms everywhere.

His brain is kind of an asshole.

Chandler sits up, rearranges them to make this easier, because he doesn’t think he’s going to last very long if he gets to see the way Joey’s face reacts to this, all lip-bitey and brow-creasy. His hands are shaking while he fumbles with the condom. This is ridiculous; Chandler’s done this before, just in a different hole and with people who aren’t Joey. That’s basically the same thing, right? He figures the basic principles still apply, there’s just an extra dick involved.

Joey’s pulled up to his knees, and Chandler holds his hips, presses in and pushes. Joey moans low and gritty in his throat, his fingers curling in the sheets, and, oh my God, fuck yes, this is amazing. Joey fits so perfectly around him, and the noises he’s making sound like this is the only thing in the entire world that he wants. “God, Chandler, that’s—” Chandler shoves in again, and Joey gives a shaky exhale. “Right there, God, yes, please.”

Chandler learns pretty quickly that Joey’s actually really loud when he’s got someone’s dick in his ass. He’s fucking deep into him, and Joey is breathing little huffs of want that say he is totally okay with this. He’s only getting louder with each thrust. This really isn’t helping Chandler stay in control; no one’s ever touched Joey this way or pulled these beautiful, needy sounds out of him. Out of everyone Joey’s dated, it’s Chandler who turns him into a broken mess of need. Chandler’s ego is pleased.

Chandler hears a distant sound over Joey’s howls of encouragement and freezes. It takes about two seconds for Joey to start complaining. “What part of ‘don’t stop’ is confusin’ you?”

Chandler squeezes his hips, his ears still attuned to the sound that he’d heard earlier. Joey sighs in annoyance and drops his forehead against the pillow. Then Chandler hears something else. Something like muffled voices from the room next door. Muffled voices that sound a lot like Ross and Rachel.

Holy shit.

“Joe! Do you hear that?”

Joey tilts his head to hear better. Chandler can make out Rachel’s giggly voice from the other side of the wall: “Ross, stop!”

Joey looks back at Chandler the best he can while he’s in this position. “Sounds like they’re gettin’ lucky too,” he says around a grin.

“And we can hear them!” Chandler’s still whispering, because the crux of this is pretty vital. “That means they can hear us too!”

“Oh.” Joey’s eyes go wide, and his face heats up. “ _Oh_.” Chandler gives him a pointed look. “Well, I can be quiet.”

Rachel makes some sort of moaning sound in the other room.

“Oh, you’re gonna!” Chandler curves over Joey’s back, sliding in deep, and Joey groans through his teeth, but he’s still sort of loud, and this is it, this is how Chandler’s going to die; he’s going to be the first documented case of someone actually dying from embarrassment, and Joey will go on living because he shed all sense of shame years ago like a goddamn cocoon. “That’s not quiet!” Chandler growls at his ear.

“Can I just say this is really hot, you takin’ control like this?”

“Really?” Joey pushes back, makes a cracked groan that Chandler feels all the way through him. “Joey? Hush or I’ll smother you with a pillow.”

“Hey, you were loud too!”

Chandler feels his face flush. He knew Joey was going to bring that up eventually. “Well, I didn’t have to be quiet. Besides, I might last a little longer if you keep it down.”

Joey thinks about it. “Okay, well, just—just touch me and I promise I’ll be quiet. I can’t hold myself up with one hand, y’know?” Chandler does as he’s asked and wraps his fingers around Joey’s dick; Joey moans into the pillow, fisting the sheets in his hands. “So good...” Chandler rocks into him, gripping his cock tight, and how are Joey’s low, soft moans turning him on more than the loud ones? The only explanation Chandler can find is that the universe hates him, but he’s not thinking about that very hard, because Joey’s underneath him moaning and shoving his hips into Chandler’s thrusts and, oh fuck, he can’t even think anymore. Joey makes a sound that’s half grunt and half whimper, his body shuddering and tensing as he comes over Chandler’s fingers. Chandler gasps a strangled little breath, curled tight over him, and just loses it because Joey’s gripped around him like a merciless vise. He breathes hot and heavy over the bowed curve of Joey’s neck, lets his hips pulse to wring out the aftershocks.

Joey’s slumped beneath him, still shivery, his face smashed into the pillow. At least he’s quiet now. He hums in appreciation when Chandler presses his mouth over the juncture of his shoulder. Joey lets out a long sigh. “So, yeah, that was...really awesome.”

“I know!” Chandler exclaims a little too loudly.

They lie there for a while, Chandler’s body slumped against Joey’s back, sweaty and damp, as he litters his skin with kisses. Chandler closes his eyes and tangles his fingers in Joey’s hair. He’s forgotten what it’s like to have a relationship where the other person isn’t eager to leave once the sex is over. Sure, Joey loves the sex, but he seems to like the other parts of their relationship too, the ones where they’re not touching each other’s genitals or kissing like they don’t want to stop.

They can hear faint moaning from the other room, then: “Oh God, Ross....”

Chandler makes a face. “So...shower?”

“Yep.”

Chandler’s foot nearly catches in the sheets as he rushes to follow Joey into the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry, this isn't the end; there's plenty more chapters to come. :)


	13. The One With the Water Slide

**Chapter 13: The One With the Water Slide**

They end up sleeping past breakfast, which Chandler is absolutely going to blame on Joey, because two people were simply not meant to have sex even once—let alone twice—in that ridiculously tiny shower stall. For a resort whose primary clients are couples, this seems like a gaping oversight.

            Joey chooses this moment to slide his arms around Chandler and press his knee into the back of his thigh. Chandler makes pained noises into the pillow.  “Ow, oh God, Joe...”

            Joey’s grin is practically audible. “You like that, huh?”

            “No! No, I don’t like it!” Chandler moans.

            Joey retracts his knee and arms. “What? Why?”

            “My legs and my ass are so sore I feel like they’re trying to run away so I can’t hurt them anymore!”

            Chandler rolls over—slowly, agonizingly—to see how Joey’s reacting to this. He’s got his thinking face on. “My ass feels okay.”

            “Because you didn’t have to put your legs over my shoulders so I could fuck you in a shower stall that barely fits one person!”

            Joey huffs a laugh; at least someone’s finding Chandler’s misery amusing. “Sorry. But, hey, maybe it wasn’t just that. I mean, we had a _lot_ of sex last night.”

            They really did. Chandler can’t remember ever having that much sex in his entire life, let alone one night.

            “Maybe your body’s just not used to...so much.”

            Chandler’s well aware that his sexual history could leave a pamphlet wanting; Joey doesn’t have to agree with him. “Joey, please stop talking,” he mutters, turning over so he’s lying on his stomach.

            Joey chooses not to do that, because he’s Joey and he likes to hear himself talk. He swings his legs off the side of the bed and pads over to the nightstand. “Hey, y’know what’ll make you feel better? A massage!” He digs through the drawers. “I think I saw a bottle of massage oil or somethin’ Phoebe uses in here.”

            Chandler’s not going to lie; in his head, the idea of Joey giving him a massage is ridiculously hot. But in reality, it would probably be very painful and embarrassing for everyone involved. “Do you actually know how to do that?”

            “‘Course I do,” Joey scoffs. “Pheebs massages me all the time.”

            Chandler shuts his eyes again, because he feels like his brain is going to explode. “That’s like saying you know how to play guitar because you’ve been to a concert or two.”

            “A-ha!” Joey finds the bottle of oil in the bottom drawer. “Here we go!” He tugs the comforter away and hops onto the bed, his knees on either side of Chandler’s hips.

            “This seems like a very flimsy excuse to touch my ass.”

            “You caught me.” Joey scoots down a little bit and starts on Chandler’s thighs; Chandler guesses that’s so he doesn’t think Joey’s literally only doing this as a way to touch his ass. Joey’s hands are warm and slippery, and even though there’s some pain as his fingers move it still feels rather pleasant.

            Chandler closes his eyes and relaxes. “You must be in a really good mood. You haven’t even complained about missing breakfast.”

            “They got room service. Plus, I’ve been eatin’ for, like, my whole life. I’ve only been able to touch you like this for two days.”

            Chandler’s not going to admit it out loud, but that warms his heart in a weird way. “A little to the left, you giant girl.”

            Joey laughs under his breath and does as he’s told. “Y’know, if I have to touch your butt, I’m gonna want to do more than just massage it.”

            “Considering that’s how I got in this position, can you not?”

            Joey chuckles. “I like you in this position.”

            Chandler sighs. “I left myself open for that one.” Joey laughs again. “Damn it!”

            Joey’s on his third slice of pizza when Ross and Rachel stop by after the massage.

            “You ordered a pizza?” Rachel asks in disbelief. Chandler gestures as if to say, “I know!”

            “Hey, there’s a place right down the street, and it’s cheaper than eatin’ here,” Joey says with his mouth full.  “What’ve you guys been up to?”

            “We walked around the miniature aquarium on the second floor,” Ross says.

            Chandler quirks an eyebrow. “Now, does that mean all the fish are really small or is that just the size of the aquarium?”

            Ross gives him what can only be described as a bitchface.

            “They got sharks there?” Joey asks.

            “There’s a great white shark, which, fun fact, shares a common ancestor with the prehistoric shark _Carcharodon megalodon_ —”

            Rachel makes a snoring sound.

            Ross stuffs his hands in the pockets of his swim trunks. “So, yes, they—they have sharks there.”

            “Cool!”

            “So, did you swim with them, or...” Chandler trails off, pointing at their bathing suits and towels and general beach attire, which makes sense, considering this is a resort with about ten different types of pools.

            “No,” Rachel chuckles, “we’re gonna go to the water park. You guys wanna come?”

            Ross lifts up the cooler he’s holding. “We’ve got beer.”

            Joey turns his head to rejoin the conversation. “Whoa, really?” He looks over at Chandler. “Chandler, they got beer!”

            “If you could bring your pizza it would be a perfect afternoon,” he says dryly.

            Joey’s eyes go ridiculously wide. “I didn’t even think of that!”

            Chandler would really prefer staying in the room today, but he doesn’t want to crush Joey’s enthusiasm. “Yeah, sure, we’ll join you. Might as well experience all the neat crap they’ve got here.”

            The buffet area opens up to a small lagoon that has a decent sized water park behind it. Chandler barely even noticed this when he was down here yesterday, but to be fair he was preoccupied with the whole “dating Joey” thing. In the center of the park is the lazy river, which encircles a quartet of water slides. Northeast from there is a beach volleyball court, concession stands, and a picnic area. On the northwest side lies a water-based jungle gym, the cabanas, and a small arcade.

            The four of them sit poolside at the lagoon, because there’s no crowd there, and that’s where the nearest chairs are. The more intimidating water rides are scattered around the perimeter of the park, with one especially tall slide practically bumping up against the brick wall outlining the resort—this one looks like a creepy, dark, alien spaceship; the top of the slide is modeled to look like a space pod, and corkscrew water slide sticks out from the bottom and empties into the pool below. A neon purple light flickers from inside the black pod. It pretty much looks like Satan designed the ride to scare the piss out of every person insane enough to slide down the thing.

            And, of course, Joey thinks it looks cool. “Oh man, that thing is awesome!” He turns to Chandler. “We gotta go on that!”

            “Uh, _no_!”

            “Why not?”

            “Because I might die!” Chandler says, like it’s obvious.

            Joey just laughs and bites into another slice of pizza. “Oh, c’mon, Chandler, don’t be scared! It’ll be fun!”

            “I like being alive, thank you very much.” He pops open a beer and steals a slice from Joey. “My general rule of minimal excitement has gotten me this far.”

            “Please, Chandler?” Joey begs, and, Christ, it’s hard to deny him anything when he puts on his “lost puppy” face.

            “Go by yourself if you wanna go that bad.”

            Rachel comes back from the concession stands, licking the powdered sugar from a funnel cake off her fingers. “Are you talking about that alien spaceship thing?”

            “Yeah!”

            “That looks so cool!” she exclaims, stomping her foot for emphasis. “But Ross is a big baby.”

            Ross frowns.

            Joey’s face lights up. “So is Chandler!”

            “Sittin’ right here,” Chandler says, his eyes narrowed.

            “We should go together!” Rachel shoves a piece of funnel cake in her mouth and sits in the empty lounge chair beside Joey.

            “We’re gonna!” He gives her a high five. Chandler and Ross share a look.

            “Just let me finish eating first, ‘cause the line is really long,” Rachel says. Joey gestures with his pizza box in agreement.

            Ross takes a tiny radio out of Rachel’s bag and switches it on for some ambience. Marky Mark starts rapping about good vibrations, and Rachel makes a scoffing noise. “Ugh, I hate that song.” She changes the station and ends up on something in Spanish.

            Ross fiddles with the dial, lands on Blind Melon’s “No Rain.” He asks, “Any particular reason?”

            “Aside from it sucking?” Chandler adds.

            Her face flushes a little. “It was playing one time when Barry and I...y’know.”

            Chandler snorts a laugh. “You did it to Marky Mark?” He might be judging her a little for this. Okay, a lot.

            “It’s not like I _wanted_ to! It just came on. And Barry had crappy taste in music anyway.”

            Joey frowns. “Hey, I like that song!”

            Rachel gestures to him as proof. “See?”

            Joey frowns harder and takes another bite of pizza. “Well, maybe I don’t wanna go on the weird-lookin’ spaceship with you anymore.”

            “No! No! I take it back!”

            Joey’s bark is worse than his bite though, because as soon as Rachel’s finished with the funnel cake they’re rushing off to ride the scary water slide together. Ross lets his gaze linger a bit too long—or maybe not? Rachel’s his girlfriend, after all—before turning to Chandler.

            “Jealous?” Chandler asks, snagging the last slice of pizza. He’s pretty sure Joey will have something to say about that when he gets back, but Chandler’s also pretty sure he can make up for it later by giving Joey an orgasm.

            “N—no, I’m not hungry,” Ross answers. Chandler gives him a look. “Oh— _oh_! Okay, yeah, a little.”

            “Really?” Chandler’s a smidge jealous himself of Joey and Rachel going off together, even if it’s just for something silly like riding a water slide. But Rachel’s hot, and Ross is kind of a dork, and Joey’s pretty smooth with the ladies, and Chandler isn’t exactly Fabio. All of this forms a weird, awful brain storm of unpleasant thoughts in which a water slide isn’t the only thing Rachel’s riding, and, wow, that was _not_ where Chandler wanted that train of thought to go.

            “Well, yeah.” Ross shrugs. “I mean, he’s Joey and I’m...me.”

            “You ever think that’s exactly why Rachel picked you? I mean, she could’ve picked Joey, but she didn’t.”

            “Only because I asked her out first,” Ross says, suddenly defeated.

            “If she wasn’t attracted to you, she wouldn’t have said yes to the date, and she wouldn’t be your girlfriend.” Chandler’s really hoping all of this applies to Joey as well, that Joey’s dating him because he wants to and not because Chandler’s patheticness has earned him pity.

            Ross pushes a hand through his hair. “Thing is, I don’t really know how to be with a woman. I was with Carol for years, and now I have to start all over. I don’t know if I trust myself not to mess this up.”

            Chandler was not ready to have such a heavy conversation today. “Do you love Rachel?”

            “Of course. When I look at her, it’s like...everything makes sense, you know? She gives me everything I could ever want just by existing.”

            Chandler thinks that’s similar to how he feels about Joey. He smiles and blurts out, “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

            “Yeah.”

            Ross doesn’t seem to catch the hint , but Chandler scrambles for more words to cover it up. “So...just trust yourself.” Ross frowns, like he expected something more profound. “Look, I’m not—I’m not good with the advice. You come to me if you want a sarcastic comment or if you need math done. Maybe Monica could make you feel better about this.”

            Ross makes a face. “I don’t think my sister wants to hear about my sex life.”

            “Phoebe’s pretty down to earth about this kind of stuff.”

            “Well, Phoebe’s not here.”

            “So you’re stuck with me.” Chandler smirks and takes a swig of his beer.

            Rachel and Joey come back from the slide about fifteen minutes later. “That was so exhilarating!” Rachel squeals, hopping into the pool. “You guys have to try it!”

            “Oh, no exhilaration for me, thanks,” Chandler says. “Doctor’s orders.”

            Joey lifts an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth pulls up. “Really?” Chandler feels his insides twist; that’s a challenge if he’s ever heard one. It might even classify as smoldering.

            “Yes, really.” He sticks his tongue out, because he’s the epitome of maturity.

            Chandler opts to lounge by the pool while the others swim. There’s no way he’s taking his shirt off around people who aren’t Joey, and he’s still sore from last night’s, uh, activities—another reason he’s not a big fan of things that are exhilarating. He’s quite content just watching Joey, admiring the gloss of his hair and the way the water trickles down his body.

            Chandler eventually moves over to the stairs and sits at the edge of the pool, dipping his feet in the water. Joey swims over to him, a few strands of hair plastered to his face. “Finally decided to join us, huh?”

            “Oh, no, I’m just observing.”

            “What if I grabbed you and pulled you in anyway?”

            “I think I’d have to cut off your sex.”

            Joey’s eyes go wide. “Does it grow back? Y’know, like a lizard tail?” Chandler huffs a laugh and plants his right foot in the middle of Joey’s chest, giving him a gentle shove. Joey wraps his hands around Chandler’s ankle, and Chandler has a moment of panic, thinking Joey might actually pull him into the pool, when Joey says, “What’s with your toe?”

            “Huh?”

            “You’re missin’ part of it.” Joey traces a finger over the uneven ridge of Chandler’s big toe.

            “Oh.” Chandler chuckles. “That. Funny story.”

            “Ooh! Funnier than the one you told me about Ross?”

            “Well, it involves my pain, so...maybe?” Joey swims closer. “I was at Ross’ parents’ house one Thanksgiving, and Monica’s there looking absolutely stunning. I saw her the year before, but back then she was just Ross’ fat sister. Now she was like, _whoa_ , y’know? So, I’m in the kitchen trying to put the moves on her, and she gets...nervous, I guess, and ends up dropping a knife and cutting off my toe.”

            Joey covers his mouth to smother a laugh, but the sound bubbles out anyway. “No way!”

            “Not one of my proudest moments.”

            Joey’s still laughing, but he looks so damn good like this that Chandler’s not going to be too upset about it. “Don’t feel too bad. I got one better,” Joey says.

            “Oh?”

            “I went out with a girl who had an artificial leg, and we went up to her dad’s cabin one night, and when we were sleepin’ in front of the fireplace I sort of...threw her leg onto the fire.”

            “Oh my God!” It hurts to laugh, but that’s not stopping Chandler. “That’s horrible!”

            Joey scowls at him. “Hey, you got your toe cut off ‘cause you were tryin’ to hit on Monica!”

            “That’s not even on the same level! If anything, it’s more embarrassing for Monica than me.” Chandler pokes at the muscles of Joey’s chest with his toe. “How did you not notice this last night?”

            “You think I’m gonna pay attention to your feet when I got everything else to look at?”

            “You’re ridiculous,” Chandler says with a grin.

            Joey’s mouth scrunches up in a pout. “ _You’re_ ridiculous, Mr. I-Don’t-Wanna-Swim.”

             “So go swim with Ross and Rach.”

            Joey looks over his shoulder at them as they playfully splash each other on the other side of the pool. “Yeah, well, they’re busy right now.”

            Chandler feels a pang of regret that he can’t put his arms around Joey or kiss him unless nobody’s watching. He doesn’t think about it all the time, just when he thinks about being affectionate or when it seems that Joey wants to. The fear is like a heavy suit of armor that weighs him down, and he doesn’t have the strength to lift it. “Maybe we can do something later. Just us.”

            “Later” certainly isn’t three hours later, when they’re tubing down the lazy river. Chandler sighs and thumps his head against the inner tube they’re sharing. Joey looks over at him, his eyebrows raised. “You wanna make out?”

            “What?”

            “C’mon, Ross and Rachel are eatin’ lunch all the way over there.” He points off into the distance. “They won’t see us.”

            Chandler makes a face. “I’m not kissing you when there’s a thin rubber floatation device separating us from a river of pee.”

            Joey’s halfway between amused and nonplussed. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

            “Don’t you know everybody pees in public pools?”

            He’s chuckling like he really hopes Chandler is joking. “Aw, c’mon, you’re makin’ this up!”

            “Ask Monica! She’s the one who told me.”

            “Yeah, well, you know Monica. She freaks out when you don’t use a coaster. She probably saw a kid pee in the pool once and figured everybody does it.”

            “Why would you be okay submerging your body into even a very small percentage of pee?”

            Joey exhales, annoyed. “Why are we even talkin’ about this?”

            “Because you wanted to make out.”

            “Oh yeah!” He grins. “So, can we?”

            Chandler makes a grunt of frustration and smacks his head against the inner tube.

            It’s dark outside when Ross and Rachel finally decide to call it a night. Some of the outermost rides have closed hours ago; the only attractions still open to the public at this hour are the hot tubs, the twenty-four hour lagoon, and the lazy river. Chandler isn’t sure what he did to deserve this; he’s still sore, and to top it off he thinks he might have a sunburn. Today has just been fabulous.

            “Well, guys, we’re gonna go up to our room,” Rachel says, stepping out of the hot tub. “You comin’?”

            “Nah, I think we’re gonna stay out here for a little bit,” Joey tells her.

            This is news to Chandler. Why Joey wants to prolong this is anybody’s guess.

            “There’s a few beers left in the cooler,” she says, holding it out for him. “You want it?”

            “Sure!”

            Chandler feels like he’s in a dimension where time has no meaning. He’s seriously contemplating drowning himself.

            “See you guys later!” Ross calls to them as he and Rachel head back into the hotel. Chandler motions after them as if to say “take me with you!”

            Joey hands Chandler the cooler. “Thirsty?”

            Chandler just gives him a look that could turn milk sour. “Why are we still here?”

            “‘Cause I wanna do somethin’,” he says, and the mischievous curl to his voice implies he already has an idea in mind.

            “We’re not making out in pee water.”

            “No, I got somethin’ better. Come on.” Joey steps out of the hot tub, and Chandler—against his better judgement—follows him. The lights begin to fade the further they venture from the hotel. Joey leads him around the river and to the north wall, where a brick divider outlines the perimeter of the resort. They’re almost cloaked in total darkness now, hidden from the wandering eyes of the few swimmers still remaining in the pools at the mouth of the hotel.

            Joey climbs over the laughable barricade—a sign, really?—and waits for Chandler to do the same. Chandler just sort of stands there. “It says ‘closed,’ Joe.”

            Joey makes a face like he doesn’t understand why Chandler would have any reservations about this. “So? What’re they gonna do, kick us out?” He shrugs. “Not like we actually paid.”

            Chandler gives it a moment’s thought and awkwardly steps over the sign dangling from the railing. He feels a tingle of exhilaration at such a flagrant disregard for rules, a tingle usually reserved for lighting a cigarette in a non-smoking area. Joey practically skips up the first flight of the spiral staircase. “Hey, would you slow down? Some of us are still sore from your little ‘no, we can totally have sex in the shower’ experiment.”

            Joey chuckles. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” Chandler frowns at him. “You want me to carry you?”

            Chandler has to laugh, because the idea is kind of ridiculous, even though Joey held him up last night during their, uh, shower sessions. “Aw, c’mon, Joe, you don’t need to—” Joey moves so his back is pressed against Chandler’s front. “And you’re serious.”

            “C’mon, climb on.”

            Chandler does the best he can, gets an arm linked around Joey’s neck while he carries the cooler in the other. Joey holds him by the underside of his thighs as he starts to climb the next set of stairs. The ground below begins to look further and further away, and Chandler tries very hard not to look. “The Tribbiani Express: a new way to travel.”

            Joey laughs, and Chandler feels the sound rumble through him. Joey’s actually pretty strong; he manages to let Chandler piggy-back until the fifth and final staircase. “Alright, ride’s over.” Slowly, he eases down until Chandler’s standing upright. Chandler can’t help but look down. He doesn’t know how high off the ground they are, but he’s certain that the fall would kill him.

            They walk up the remaining stairs to reach the top and cross the small boardwalk. The gaping mouth of the space pod lies ahead, which will end up sending them through a corkscrew tube of a water slide. But Joey appears to have something else in mind.  “Nice view, huh?” he says, leaning on the railing.

            Chandler moves closer to look at the night sky sprawled out in front of them. The cloak of darkness they’re under seems to make the faraway lights twinkle a little brighter. Cars move slowly across distant roads, their headlights tiny points of reference. There’s a bright half-moon in the sky, glistening atop the waxy leaves dangling in the trees and the calm surface of the pools below. Despite the rush of water flowing through the tube slide, it’s peaceful up here, solitudinous, almost romantic. “Yeah, it’s...it’s nice,” Chandler says at last, because words have failed him.

            Joey sinks down and sits on the boardwalk, his back leaning against the rails. He stretches his legs out to touch the opposite railing. The edges of the towel draped over his shoulders dangle across his chest. There’s still a wet sheen on his body, and Chandler has to bite his tongue to stop himself from licking his lips—or Joey. Instead, he sits beside Joey, warm against his arm as they gaze at the tranquil sky. Joey reaches for the cooler and flips the lid up. “Beer?” They each take a can and pop it open. Joey slinks his free arm around Chandler’s shoulders and says, “Now we get to be alone.”

            Chandler swoons internally.

            He doesn’t know how long they spend up there together, swapping stories and laughing at each other’s embarrassing moments. They’ve had a pretty good relationship built on that alone, but now Chandler gets to touch him, gets to feel the heat of Joey’s skin underneath his fingertips. It’s a minor privilege, but he cherishes it all the same. Chandler appreciates the little things: the way Joey laughs and looks down in chagrin, the way his smile reaches his eyes and makes them crinkle at the edges, the way he sits with his legs spread wide as if inviting Chandler to sit in his lap. The press of his mouth always leaves Chandler a little weak in the knees; he’s glad he’s sitting down now. Joey leaves a trail of gentle kisses along the line of Chandler’s neck before his hand snakes underneath his t-shirt.

            “I don’t know why you wore this dumb ol’ thing,” Joey murmurs, pushing Chander’s shirt up so he can kiss his chest. “You look great.”

            Chandler’s face heats up. “You’re the only one who knows about...y’know, the nubbin.”

            “Is that what you call it?”

            “When I want it to sound cute.” He gives a hopeful smile that Joey kisses away before dropping his head to open his mouth around a nipple. A shivery gasp chokes its way out of Chandler’s throat, and he grips a hand in Joey’s hair. Joey tugs at the nub with his teeth. “Oh God...” His head tips back, and he lets out a shaky breath when Joey takes another nipple into his mouth. “Joe, you’re...”

            “Amazing? I know.”

            Chandler thinks about arguing the point, that maybe he was going to say something else, but it doesn’t seem worth it when Joey’s sucking and nibbling and humming moans around his nipples. Joey grabs Chandler’s thighs and hauls him into his lap, his erection pressed against Chandler’s ass. Chandler tries not to panic; his legs are sticking through the bars of the guardrail and are currently dangling what seems to be a hundred feet in the air. He makes a choked noise of distress.

            Joey looks up at him. “What’s wrong?” Chandler just keeps staring at the ground below. “Oh, hey, don’t worry. Just look at me. I won’t let you fall.”

            Chandler slowly draws his legs back from the bars and tucks them underneath himself, his knees on either side of Joey’s hips. Joey covers Chandler’s mouth with his own before snaking a hand down his spine and into his shorts. A surprised moan bubbles out of his throat when Joey teases a finger at his entrance. “Oh God—”

            Joey stops. “Is it okay?”

            “Yesyesyespleasedon’tstop,” Chandler babbles out, moving his hips to push Joey’s fingers deeper. Joey obliges him, stroking and moving in small circles that make Chandler’s shoulders quiver and his head tip back. Chandler rocks his hips and moves in to kiss him again. Joey brings Chandler’s face closer with his free hand, pushes in a little harder. Chandler yelps around his mouth and fists his hands in Joey’s hair. “So good...God, you’re so good...”

            “Hey, you’re not too bad yourself,” Joey says, easing his fingers in a little more. He shoves his other hand down the front of Chandler’s shorts and grabs his cock. Chandler makes a whimpering noise and pushes his hips forward. Joey’s fist slides and squeezes while his fingers stroke and press. His mouth moves over Chandler’s, smothering the needy sounds spilling from his lips. Joey grins, teases the head of his cock with his thumb. “I think you’re close.”

            “Yeah, that—that’ll happen when you’ve got your fingers in my ass and your hand around my dick,” Chandler snaps, his voice shaky. Joey strokes harder, and Chandler squeezes his eyes shut, his shoulders quaking. He feels it coming and just lets it happen, lets it all shake out of him and spill over Joey’s fingers. While the stars burst behind his eyes, he feels the void from the hand around his cock, and Joey’s other hand is still working inside of him. Chandler nudges his hips into it while Joey moans at the taste of him.

            “God, that was...” Chandler breathes out, struggling for the proper word. He settles for “awesome.”

            Joey smiles at him. “I feel like I can’t touch you enough, y’know? The sounds you make, the way you look... Man, it’s amazing.”

            “R—really?” As if he didn’t have enough to be self-conscious about.

            “Yeah, it’s like...a hundred times better than porn.” Chandler lifts an eyebrow; he thinks Joey may have gone temporarily insane. “‘Cause it’s real—it’s us.”

            “You’re just happy to be getting laid,” Chandler teases and curls his fingers in Joey’s hair.

            “There’s that too.” Joey lifts Chandler so he’s sitting on the lip of the entrance to the slide. Chandler feels the water lapping at his blissfully sore nether regions. For a flicker of a moment, he thinks Joey might be trying to get him off again—or at least wring out the aftershocks of orgasm—but then Joey’s smile turns mischievous and— _oh no_.

            He couldn’t be.

            Chandler’s going to kill Joey if he’s—

            “Have fun.” Joey plants his foot in the middle of Chandler’s chest and shoves him backwards. Chandler yelps as the current carries him into the abyss until there’s no floor beneath him. He plummets down the pitch black chute like a meteor and feels his heart in his throat. Then he feels his body slam into the slide as the corkscrew starts. He flails uselessly through the dark coil of the slide, pushed through at a dizzying speed by the rush of water. He tries to keep himself from crashing into the sides, but it’s a wasted effort. His sore muscles scream in protest as the twist of the slide and the battering current fling him about like a rag doll.  

            Chandler can see a faint glow of light in the distance. The light grows and grows until he sees a burst of white, and he’s falling straight down into the pool below. There’s no time to suck in one last gulp of air. He crashes through the surface of the water about as gracefully as he dances. Chandler fights to keep his last reserves of oxygen in while he sinks headfirst into the deep. He struggles in the direction of the light, his arms reaching and his legs kicking.

            His head breaks the surface, and he breathes in wild gasps for air. The water is still, nothing like the furious, churning waves torrenting through the slide. Chandler thinks he might have actually died.

            Joey’s laughing as he hurries down the remainder of the staircase. “You are the worst!” Chandler growls, his arms pushing weakly through the water.

            Joey pads over to the ladder leading out of the pool. “Wasn’t that fun?”

            “Fun?” Chandler shakes his head; his water-logged hair tosses fat drops of liquid in every direction. “Oh yeah, I love being tossed around in a dark, colorless void! Sign me up!” He swims over to the ladder and glares up at Joey, who’s grinning down at him and blocking out the sky.

            “You look like a drowned rat,” Joey says with a chuckle.

            Chandler narrows his eyes before water drips into them. “I hate you.”

            “You’ll get over it.” Joey helps him out of the pool, offers him a towel. Chandler thinks about pulling him into the water, but knowing his luck Joey would probably enjoy that. Joey’s pressed against Chandler’s back, kissing his neck, as Chandler wrings the water out of his t-shirt that suddenly weighs about a thousand pounds. “We get back to the room and you’ll forget all about this.”

            “I’m not going to touch your dick for the next ten years.”

            Joey’s eyes go wide as Chandler stomps off in the direction of the hotel. “Hey, you don’t mean that, do ya, Chandler?” He doesn’t answer, still furiously sulking away. Joey hurries after him. “Chandler!”


	14. The One With All the Doubt

**Chapter 14: The One With All the Doubt**

It’s Monday morning, and Chandler’s in bed with his legs tangled around Joey’s. They’ve been awake for about thirty minutes just touching and kissing, wringing out every last drop of satisfaction from this trip before they leave. Chandler isn’t sure he’s going to get used to waking up next to Joey, their limbs entangled after having sex. They had sex last night—twice. Even after Joey’s little water slide stunt. Chandler finds it difficult to stay mad at Joey for too long, especially when he’s naked and pressed against Chandler in the shower. And, okay, maybe in retrospect Chandler found the whole ride a little fun. But he’s never going to admit that out loud.

            Joey sighs over his mouth. “We should probably get up, huh?”

            “There’s no point,” Chandler murmurs. “Ross refuses to check out of a hotel until the actual check-out time. Not a minute too soon.”

            “Geez, what’s he doin’ in there?”

            “My guess is packing all the hotel soaps.”

            Joey cranes his neck to peer at the clock on the nightstand. “Well, looks like we got about an hour before Ross gets his butt in gear.” He gives Chandler a flirtatious grin. “Maybe we should find a way to pass the time?”

            “Joe, for future reference, never mention Ross’ butt when you want to have sex with me.”

            “What about yours?”

             “Well, mine is probably going to be involved, so, yeah, I guess.” Chandler makes a face. “Why are we even having this conversation?”

            “Beats me.” Joey moves to kiss him, smothers Chandler’s words under his mouth. His wandering hands trail heat over Chandler’s skin before rolling him onto his back. Joey climbs on top of him, the warm, heavy curve of his body settling over Chandler.

            “Joe, wait, I don’t wanna have to take another shower,” Chandler says through biting kisses, though his legs end up hitched over Joey’s shoulders. “Can we do something that isn’t gonna be messy?”

            “You read my mind.” Joey grins, wraps a hand underneath Chandler’s thigh and slides it down to the curve of his ass. “I wanna try somethin’.”

            “In bed?”

            Joey narrows his eyes. “No, in the Olympics.” Chandler scowls, absolutely not in the mood for Joey’s sass right now. “‘Course I mean in bed.”

            “This isn’t going to involve food or things that aren’t body parts, is it?”

            “Relax, will ya? You’ll love this.” Joey thinks about it for a moment, then: “Maybe.”

            “That’s encouraging.” Chandler can’t think of anything Joey might want to try here that isn’t way out of his comfort zone.

            Joey sits between Chandler’s legs, hands pushing his knees apart and sliding over skin.

            Oh.

            ....

            “ _Oh_.” Chandler’s face might be about ten different shades of red right now. “Oh. That’s—Are you trying to kill me? Is that what this is?” It’s not like Chandler hasn’t thought about it, but the fantasies in his head and the reality of it actually happening are two totally different things. “Because I don’t think I can handle your mouth...there.”

            “I know I’ve never done it before, but I know what _not_ to do, y’know?” Joey looks embarrassed, like he’s regretting even thinking about it. He rubs the back of his neck and looks away. “But if you don’t wanna, that’s fine, I—”

            “N—no, I do!” Chandler blubbers out. “I really do. Oh my God, you have no idea how much I do.”

            “Great!” Joey grins and tugs Chandler’s boxers over his hips. “Just—try not to move too much, okay?”

           Chandler nods, and Joey slides a hand behind Chandler’s knee, presses his mouth over the inside of his thigh. Chandler shivers, squirming under the touch. Joey kisses a line down his thigh, and Chandler watches his head sink lower and lower until he’s breathing hot at his cock. He squeezes his eyes shut, feels Joey’s fingers wrap around the base, and then there’s a wet heat enveloping the head of his dick. Chandler lets out a shaky moan, curls his fingers in the blankets as his hips twist and jerk, because he _cannot_ stay still for this.

            Joey pulls away and raises his head to glare at Chandler. “What the hell did I _just_ say?”

            “Sorry, Joe,” Chandler groans out. “I think this is something my body just _does_ when someone’s got my dick in their mouth?”

            Joey’s not buying it. He gives Chandler a sassy look and says, “Quit movin’ so much, alright?”

            “I can’t make any promises.”

            Joey rolls his eyes—actually fucking _rolls his eyes_ —before his head dips down again, and Chandler’s biting back unattractive whimpering noises. He loops a leg over Joey’s shoulder. Joey takes him in a little deeper, his hand squeezing the shaft as his mouth works.

            This orgasm might actually kill him. He’s not too upset about it though; this isn’t a bad way to go, all things considering.

            Joey moans around him, all heat and wet suction. Chandler fists his hands in Joey’s hair when his hips start to thrust up beyond his control. “God, Joe...” Joey snorts out a huff of breath that Chandler can just _tell_ is supposed to be an exasperated sigh, like he’s not even going to bother reminding Chandler not to move again. Joey bobs his head to counter the way Chandler’s hips are pistoning into his mouth, but Chandler can’t help it. He’s doing all he can to not blow his load in the next ten seconds, and it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done in his life.

            Chandler digs his fingers in, gets his hands full of Joey’s hair. “Joe, I’m gonna...” He’s not embarrassed at all about his lack of stamina here. He needs this right now, and he doesn’t care if it’s too fast.

            Joey sucks hard at the head, swirls his tongue over the tip, and Chandler falls apart with a desperate groan. His hands slide through Joey’s hair while he tries to get air into his lungs again. He doesn’t even remember how to make words anymore.

            Joey’s licking and smacking his lips when Chandler finally meets his eyes. “Oh my God,” Chandler breathes out, because that’s been a pretty apropos description of his sexual encounters with Joey. “That was...” He thinks new words need to be invented to fully describe this relationship.

            “Good?” Joey sits up between Chandler’s legs and fixes him with a hopeful gaze.

            “Yeah, yeah. Oh God, yeah.”

            “Really?” Joey’s grinning now, his perfect teeth on display. “‘Cause, y’know, that was my first time doin’ that...” His fingers trail lazily over the muscle of Chandler’s inner thigh.

            “No, no, it was...it was good,” Chandler says.

            “But, hey, I can get better!” Joey says suddenly, as if he’s just realized this himself. “Would you...want me to do that?”

            “Do you really need an answer to that question?” The world’s stopped spinning now, and the realization that his dick was in another guy’s mouth is starting to sink in. This is a whole new level of freaking out that Chandler didn’t even know existed. He rubs a hand over his face. “You, uh, you want breakfast?” When in doubt, distract Joey with food.

            “Yeah, I’m starvin’!” He glances at the clock and frowns. “But I don’t think we have time. We still gotta get dressed and pack.”

            Chandler surveys the room; it looks like the contents of their luggage was scattered by a hand grenade. He grabs his boxers off of the bed and steps into them. “I’m sorry, Joe,” he says with a sigh. “Would you feel better if I make breakfast when we get home?”

            Joey shrugs. “I’m not gonna turn down food.”

             Chandler tries to rein in his panic while he gathers his things. What’s the big deal, really? It’s not like he’s never thought about getting a blowjob from Joey before. Hell, that’s pretty tame compared to all the nasty porno fantasies he’s got swimming around in his head. But they’ve always stayed in his head where it’s safe to think about them. It doesn’t make him gay to fantasize about Joey sucking his dick, but if he lets it happen—encourages it, even...

            He hates that his father’s indiscretions have internalized inside himself, destroying any chance he may have had at building a real, lasting relationship. Chandler’s prided himself in being nothing like Charles Bing, nothing like the man who’d wrecked his home and his life. But it seems he’s more like dear old dad than he thought.

            Like father, like son.

            Lost in his thoughts, he flails manically when Joey throws something soft at him. “Sorry, I was aimin’ for your suitcase.”

            Chandler grabs the t-shirt Joey tossed in his direction, his hands still jittery. Chandler’s suitcase is nowhere near him. “Call the NBA; I think we found our new star player!”

            Joey gives him a look. “Alright, maybe I was just seein’ if you were payin’ attention. It’s not like you to be so...quiet. It’s weird. Stop it.”

            Chandler just stares numbly at the shirt in his hands. He knows what Joey looks like on top of him and between his legs now, and he doesn’t know how to handle any of this. “It’s just—” He wets his mouth, tries again. “It’s gonna be really weird doing this at home, y’know? This feels like something you do when you’re drunk in a foreign country or Vegas or somewhere you won’t bring it home with you.” Joey looks torn open, and Chandler tries to backpedal over his words. “It works so well here, but I don’t know how well it’s gonna work when we get home, I mean. But I do want to try it.”

            Joey still looks wounded, and Chandler clenches his hands into fists, because why is he so bad at this? Half of him wonders what all of this will change about their relationship, but the other half is ecstatic that Joey likes him back—likes him enough to suck his cock, damn it—and that’s the half Chandler should be paying attention to, because how often does he ever get to have nice things like this?

            Chandler twists the shirt in his hands. “What we have here is so great, but if it doesn’t work I don’t know if we can go back to being friends.”

            “But you said—”

            “Oh, what do I know? The rules go out the window when it comes to you.”

            “What are you sayin’ here?”

             “I think my original point was just happy surprise that this actually happened, like ‘whoa, this is neat,’ but then I kept talking and this is exactly why I shouldn’t talk. Can you be the designated talker in this relationship?”

            Joey’s expression softens into a smile. “But I like when you talk, even if I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

            Chandler smiles back, and Joey tosses a pair of rolled-up socks at him.

            They get home a little while after noon. Joey throws his bag into his bedroom and rushes into the kitchen. “I don’t know ‘bout you, but I’m hungry.” He swings the fridge door open and peers inside.

            “You’re always hungry.”

            “This is who I am, Chandler,” Joey says, digging through the contents of the fridge for something edible. “And you promised you’d make me breakfast.”

            “Yeah, I did,” Chandler concedes, coming over to Joey and placing a hand between his shoulder blades. Joey moves out of the way so Chandler can bend down to search for ingredients. “One of these days you should make me breakfast.”

            Joey likes this idea. “Yeah? You want somethin’ fancy or somethin’ boring like pancakes?”

            “Pancakes aren’t boring. And you always burn them anyway. It takes a certain...finesse.”

            “You sayin’ I’m not...finesse-y?”

            “Not exactly. You’re just...better with meat. You have a rougher touch, and, my God, that doesn’t sound dirty at all, does it?” Chandler sticks his head in the fridge in an effort to cool down. He’s unusually horny this morning; maybe this is just how he is when he’s dating someone—Chandler wouldn’t know, it’s been a while since his last relationship.

            Joey chuckles, reaches down and drags his fingers through Chandler’s hair. “Maybe just a little.”

            When Chandler stands up, batter mix in hand, Joey’s chest is pressed against his back. He shivers when he feels something hard jutting into the base of his spine. “Why, Joey, is that your wallet or are you just happy to see me?”

            Joey huffs a laugh and presses his mouth over the back of Chandler’s neck. “Both. But why don’t you start fixin’ breakfast? Then you can find out for yourself. I’m starvin’.”

            Chandler chuckles to himself, moves over to the stove. “We worked up quite an appetite last night, huh?” He feels the heat of Joey’s form behind him, and he’s one erotic thought away from smashing his hand onto the burner. “Joe, would you, uh, see if we have any chocolate chips left over?”

            “Sure.” Joey lets his hand linger on Chandler’s waist before he walks back to the fridge.

            Chandler stares at the pan for a moment until he remembers that he’s supposed to be making pancakes, not fantasizing about how Joey fits perfectly inside of him. He gets the ingredients mixed together by the time Joey finds the chocolate chips.

            “Here ya go.” He tosses Chandler the bag, but Chandler flails in a failed attempt to catch it and ends up dropping them. “Nice catch.” Joey grabs the package and sets it on the countertop. “I should’a remembered that you’re a dropper.”

            “I’m not a dropper!”

            “What do you call what you just did?”

            “I wasn’t ready,” Chandler says with a frown.

            Joey settles his hands on Chandler’s waist while he cooks. He behaves himself, save for a few soft kisses over Chandler’s neck and the slope of his shoulder. Chandler lets him do it because it feels really damn good. But when Joey starts kissing at his throat, Chandler has to speak up.

            “Joe, not all of us can pull off turtlenecks,” he warns, tilting his head away from Joey’s mouth.

            “Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

            They’re enjoying delicious pancakes on top of the foosball table when Chandler’s foot begins its ascent up the long line of Joey’s leg. Joey’s eyes go wide, and he looks down, then looks at Chandler. “Are you—?”

            “I’m not doing anything,” Chandler says in his best innocent voice—which, now that he hears it, really needs some work. He trails his toes over Joey’s inner thigh, slides his foot between his legs and feels him through his jeans. He’s not going to fool himself into thinking he can get the jeans unzipped or unbuttoned with his feet, so he just lingers there, the breadth of his foot gliding against the inside of Joey’s thighs.

            Joey’s voice is shaky with need when he speaks. “Chandler, stop. I’m tryin’ to eat.”

            “I thought food and sex were your two favorite things.”

            “They are, but I’m really confused right now.”

            Chandler’s foot brushes over Joey’s knee when someone knocks at the door. Neither one of them moves, although Chandler’s gaze slides from the door to Joey. “You know that’ll stop if you get up and open that big square thing with the knob?”

            “Yeah, but that means I gotta stop eatin’,” Joey says with his mouth full.

            “A no-brainer.”

            Chandler sighs and goes to answer the door. Monica’s standing there smiling at him. “I thought I heard you two get back! How was your trip?”

            “It was...good,” Chandler says, stumbling around the words. He lets her inside, not wanting to be rude. Joey’s hunched over the table, conspicuously shoveling forkfuls of food into his mouth. “Very relaxing.”

            Joey makes a sound of agreement around a mouthful of pancakes.

            “Did you do anything fun? Was the room nice? You didn’t go in the pool, did you?”

            Chandler gives Joey an “I told you so” look. Joey just crosses his legs and keeps eating. “We, uh, we—water slides! And—and sharks!” He realizes how that sounds to someone who doesn’t speak Chandler’s unique brand of weird. “Not, like, in the same area.”

            “Ross told me about the sharks,” Monica says with a chuckle.

            “Oh, and Joey tried to kill me,” Chandler adds. He’s never going to be over that.

            “I pushed him down a water slide,” Joey clarifies, rolling his eyes at Chandler’s theatrics.

            “And I almost died.”

            “No, you didn’t.”

            Chandler mouth-glares at him.

            “You almost died?” Monica asks, clearly humoring him.

            Joey spreads his arms. “Why you gotta take his side?”

            “That slide was not meant to be ridden without an inner tube!” Chandler asserts.  “Remember that scene in _The Empire Strikes Back_ when Luke’s fighting Vader and he jumps down that long tunnel? That was me!”

            Monica’s distracted by something in the kitchen. “Did you make pancakes?”

            “No, the breakfast gods have been very kind to us this season.” Chandler’s in a particularly snarky mood today.

            Monica seems to be immune to his sarcasm by now. She walks over to the mixing bowl. “There’s still some batter left over. Could I make some?”

            Chandler shrugs. “Yeah, go ahead.”

            Joey makes an exasperated shrugging motion and gives Chandler a pointed look. Chandler makes a face as if to apologize.

            “So, my credit card got stolen while you guys were gone,” Monica says while she works over the stove.

           “Really?” Chandler’s interested, but Joey’s gesturing wildly, crossing his legs, and generally being distracting.

            “But you know what the worst part is? This thief lives my life better than I do!” She thwacks the spatula against the skillet. “I basically learned that I’m in debt and I’m boring!”

            “You’re not in debt; you don’t have to pay for anything you didn’t buy,” Chandler reminds her.

            “But you think I’m boring?”

            Chandler should have seen this coming. “N—no! I didn’t say that!”

            Joey heaves a sigh, glaring at Chandler in a way that could bore holes through titanium. Chandler flails in a panic and mouths “I can’t,” because he knows Joey wants her out of here so Chandler can take care of the, uh, uprising he started in Joey’s pants.

            Monica’s reciting number three on her list of Reasons Why Monica is Boring when Joey pushes away from the table. “Ugh, sorry, Mon, I gotta get a shower,” he grumbles, stomping down the hall to the bathroom.

            Chandler’s not going to be capable of thinking about anything else now that he knows Joey will be naked and drippy in the next room. He squeezes his thighs together and tries his best to boost Monica’s confidence.

            He’s not so good at the confidence boosting.

            When Monica finishes eating the pancakes, she gets the irrevocable urge to clean up the kitchen, and Chandler wonders what he did to deserve this. Joey’s naked and wet in the shower right now, and Chandler doesn’t get to join him and touch his dick. Or have his own dick touched. There’s no dick-touching going on, and somehow it’s all Monica’s fault.

            By the time Monica leaves, Joey’s already toweling off when Chandler scrambles in to join him. Chandler doesn’t even bother trying to hide the way his gaze rakes over Joey’s body, because, wow, could that towel be any smaller? Chandler’s mouth opens in a gasp. Joey’s pecs are trailing water in a way that’s helplessly distracting. He forces himself to step closer; Joey’s his boyfriend now and he’s allowed to touch him. “So, uh, where were we?” Chandler sputters out.

            “Oh, I already took care of it. Sorry.”

            “No fair!” Chandler whines. But now he’s thinking about Joey jerking himself off, and the mental image isn’t exactly disagreeable.

            “Well, maybe if we told everybody we’re together they’d leave us alone for a while?” Joey offers in his most “trying not to be confrontational” voice.

            Chandler’s face goes through a complicated mess of emotions. “Joe...I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now.”

            Joey’s eyebrows knit together in a way that makes him look like a puppy that’s just been kicked. “Why not?”

            “I—I want you all to myself for a while. I haven’t been with somebody like this in”—Chandler stumbles over his words, embarrassed at his lack of experience here—“in a long time. I mean, if we told anybody they’d probably bug us more.” Joey gives a small head tilt of agreement. “And Ross and Rachel just got together. If we said that we’re dating too, we might steal their thunder. Rachel probably wouldn’t appreciate that. I mean, the trip was her birthday present from Ross.”

            Joey nods grudgingly after giving this a moment of contemplation. “Okay, well, whatever you think is best. I trust you.”

            Chandler feels like he’s just dodged a huge bullet.


	15. The One With the Ick Factor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place during the eponymously-titled episode (1x22)

**Chapter 15: The One With the Ick Factor**

            “Joey, I’m at work,” Chandler hisses into the phone. “I refuse to use the company line for phone sex.”

            “Aw, man, c’mon, loosen up a little.” Joey chuckles knowingly. “I bet you’re a real freak in secret. I just gotta find out what turns your crank.”

            Chandler makes a face. “If you keep making car metaphors, my ‘crank’ is going to be off limits for a while.”

            “As long as you can still use mine.”

           Chandler has to struggle not to think about that; there is absolutely no reason for him to have a boner at work.  “I wonder if this counts as sexual harrassment in the workplace.”

            “Want me to come over there and smack your ass every now and then? Y’know, for morale...or somethin’?”

            “Kinda defeats the purpose of the whole ‘secret’ thing.”

            Chandler can almost see the way Joey’s raking a hand through his hair when he sighs. “Maybe I don’t want it to be a secret anymore, Chandler—”

            “I know, I know. We’ll talk about it later, okay? I have to get back to work.” There are only so many times they can have this conversation before Joey gets sick of it and makes an executive decision on behalf of his sanity.

            “Alright,” Joey whines. Then there’s a smile in his voice when he says, “See you tonight, stud.”

            Chandler’s left staring at the phone in his hand because, seriously, “stud?” He can’t ever remember being called that in a non-sarcastic way, like when he calls Joey “genius.” Come to think of it, Chandler isn’t sure if anyone has ever called someone a genius and actually meant it.

            When Chandler looks up from his desk, he sees Phoebe standing there pointing at him and bouncing up and down and generally freaking him the hell out. “Oh my God! You’re seeing somebody!”

            Chandler makes a sound of horror and nearly flails his way out of his chair. “N—no! No! No!” He needs to find better words, but these are the best he can do right now.

            Phoebe’s grinning so hard it hurts Chandler’s face just looking at her. “Yes, you are! I heard you on the phone!” She plants her hands on his desk and leans forward. Her hair smells like kiwis. “So who is it? Who’s your secret lover?”

            “No one!” That’s Chandler’s story and he’s sticking to it.

            “Oh, come on! You can tell me! I’m, like, the least judgemental person ever.”

            “There’s nothing to tell! I’m not dating anyone.” It comes out as an almost-growl.

            Phoebe steps back, gives him an appraising look. “Huh. You’re kinda sexy when you’re angry.”

            This completely derails his train of thought. “Really?”

            “Oh yeah, you got kind of a Patrick Swayze thing goin’ on there. ‘Nobody puts baby in a corner.’”

            Chandler smirks a little. “Wow, you think so?”

            “I would totally make out with you right now if you didn’t have a secret lover.”

            “I do not have a secret lover!”

            Phoebe claps her hands together and starts pointing again. “See? See? There it is! If I jumped at you right now, would you catch me and hold me up like they did in _Dirty Dancing_?”

            “I’d love to, Pheebs, but I have the upper body strength of a six-year-old girl.” Chandler’s not proud of that, but he thinks being able to recognize your own faults is a good quality. “You could always ask Joey.”

            Now he’s thinking about Joey’s arms holding him, pinning him down and fucking him into the mattress.

            Today is a very weird day for Chandler.

#

“Well, well, well,” Chandler announces with a smirk as he comes home to Joey, “looks like you got some competition for this stud!”

            Joey appears to be on the verge of laughter. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

            Chandler swaggers over to where Joey’s sitting in the recliner and stands in front of him, blocking the TV. “Phoebe thinks I’m kind of sexy when I’m angry.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking incredibly self-satisfied. He doesn’t get compliments like this very often, so he’s going to milk this one for all it’s worth.

            “Really?”

            “Yes, apparently I look a little like Patrick Swayze?”

            Joey squints, tilts his head left, then right. “I don’t see it.”

            Chandler shoots him a completely authentic scowl. “How about now?”

            He stares a little harder. “Nah, still not seein’ it.” Chandler pouts, gives Joey the “you’re an idiot” look. Joey chuckles and slides his gaze down Chandler’s body. “But, hey, she’s right: you do look pretty sexy when you’re angry.”

            Chandler’s honestly baffled—and insanely flattered—by this. “You really think so?” He needs to stop smiling right now.

            “Oh yeah!” Joey stands up, slinks over to him. “But when you’re dressed like that you’ve got a hot teacher thing goin’ on, y’know?” He shoves his hand down the front of Chandler’s pants and tugs him forward. “Ooh, Mr. Bing, if I stay after class will you give me some extra credit?”

            “Have you been watching porn today?”

            Joey ignores him, his hands working on Chandler’s belt buckle. “You gave me a B on my last exam...but I want the D.”

            Chandler starts laughing and can’t stop, even when Joey slings him over his shoulder and carries him into his bedroom. Chandler’s still laughing when he bounces against the mattress. This whole situation is so ridiculous; he’d really like some substantial proof that he didn’t wake up in a porno movie.

           Chandler’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his knees apart; Joey moves into the open space between them, standing over Chandler and sliding his hands around his shoulders. “So, Mr. Bing,” Joey says, his voice low and breathy as he tugs on Chandler’s tie, “how about that extra credit?”

            “Aren’t you a little old to be in high school?”

            Joey purses his lips. “I was an early bloomer, okay?”

            Chandler bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from another laughing fit. “So what can I do for you, Joseph?”

            Joey lifts an eyebrow, starts loosening Chandler’s tie. “I think the question is: what can _I_ do for _you_?” He plucks open the first button on Chandler’s shirt and sticks his hand in. The heat of Joey’s palm runs over his chest and around to his back. “I got an A in Sex Ed; I bet I can teach you a couple things.”

             “Like what?”

            “Like this.” Joey presses his mouth over Chandler’s before Chandler turns his head away.

            “Joseph Tribbiani, did you just kiss your teacher?”

            His lips pull into a sardonic smile, displaying two rows of perfect teeth. “Yeah, maybe I did. What’re you gonna do, spank me?”

            “Well, the district was sued last year for unauthorized corporal punishment, so, no, we don’t do that anymore.”

            The smile falls; Joey tries—unsuccessfully—to plaster it back on. “Well, what if I spanked you?”

            “I think that falls under a whole different set of laws.”

            Joey’s entire body gets into the sigh. “God, Chandler, you are the worst actor!” he shouts, throwing his hands up in frustration.

            Chandler’s still laughing when Joey storms out of the bedroom.

# 

Joey’s getting pretty good at acting like he and Chandler aren’t a couple while they’re around the others. Which, now that Joey thinks about it, makes a lot of sense; he’s an actor, of course he’s good at acting.

            That doesn’t mean he won’t steal a few quick glances at Chandler from time to time. Hell, he’s checking him out right now while Chandler’s sitting on the arm of the couch at Central Perk, with Ross serving as a human barrier between them. Years of ogling attractive people has made Joey a master at the whole trying-not-to-look-but-totally-checking-you-out thing—which is great, because Chandler is ridiculously handsome in a suit and tie, and how is Joey supposed to _not_ appreciate that?

            Phoebe’s new job as Chandler’s fill-in secretary seems to be going well. “Everybody was so nice!”

            “See, it pays to know the man who wears my shoes,” Chandler boasts, and if Joey didn’t know to look for it he would have missed the way Chandler’s eyes slide all the way down Joey’s body before flicking back to Phoebe. Then back to Joey, because he’s wearing his confused expression that prompts Chandler to clarify: “Me.”

            “Oh no, I didn’t tell anybody I knew you,” Phoebe says.

            “Why not?”

            “Well, because, y’know...they don’t like you.”

            Chandler looks like his entire world-view has just been irrevocably altered. “What?”

            She blinks in surprise. “I thought you knew that.”

            “Nuh-huh.” If Chandler were a puppy he’d be making high-pitched whining noises right now. “Who doesn’t like me?”

            “Everyone. Except for, um”—she thinks about it—“no, everyone.”

            “What are you talking about?”

           “Don’t feel bad! They used to like you a lot, but then you got promoted, and now you’re, like, Mr. Boss Man. Boss Man Bing!”

            Chandler’s lower lip is jutting out so far he could probably swallow his own chin. “I can’t believe it.”

            Joey’s having trouble with this one too. He’s no stranger to disgruntled co-workers, having ruffled a few feathers himself—it’s not like he tries to rub people the wrong way, sometimes it just happens. But Chandler has always been so likeable, even when he’s stumbling over his words and flailing his arms. Sure, he can be awkward sometimes, but who _isn’t_ every once in a while? Joey roots his likeability in his good looks, because people are more inclined to like you when you’re attractive; he’s read a few studies in Chandler’s non-dirty magazines—yeah, Joey knows things. But Chandler cracks jokes to get people to like him, and if it doesn’t work, if his co-workers universally hate him...

            Phoebe nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah, they even do you!”

            “They ‘do’ me?” Chandler doesn’t seem to think this is an innuendo.

            “Y’know, like, ‘could that report _be_ any later?’” Phoebe does a pretty good Chandler impression, if Joey’s honest. He lets out a huff of breath that might be interpreted as a laugh, because Chandler cuts him a frowny look.

            “I don’t sound like that.”

            Ross shakes his head, as if Chandler’s denial is physically hurting him. “Oh, oh, Chandler...”

            “Yeah, you do,” Joey admits, because, seriously, so much of Chandler’s personality is tied up in his unusual speech patterns.

            Chandler looks to be in a state of stubborn disbelief.

            Ross takes Chandler’s doubt and runs with it. “‘The hills are alive with the sound _of_ music!’”

            “My scone!” Joey figures he gets a free pass at poking fun at Chandler, because he gives him sex that—judging by the sounds Chandler makes in bed—is really freakin’ amazing. “ _My_ scone!”

            Chandler looks impossibly wounded by everyone’s impressions of him, but also like he wants to punch Joey in a very tender place. “Okay, I don’t sound like that,” he insists, getting off of the couch. “That is so _not_ true!” He frowns, tries again. “That is so _not_...” And again. “That is _so_ not—Oh, shut up!” He scowls at Joey before storming out. Chandler really has a flair for the dramatic sometimes.

            Joey slinks over to Phoebe after Chandler has fled from the conversation. “Hey, Pheebs, you were just jokin’ when you said all that stuff about how no one Chandler works with likes him, right?”

            Phoebe gives him a confused look. “What? Oh no, that’s totally true,” she says, then goes back to sipping her lemonade.

            That’s just wrong on so many levels it’s tragic.

            Joey scoots closer. “Well, you gotta tell him you were jokin’ or—or somethin’. You got a weird sense of humor; he’ll believe you.”

            “Okay, but only if you tell me who his secret lover is.”

            “What?”

            “I heard him on the phone at work talking to someone, and he sounded really flirty, then he mentioned something about a secret. Do you think he has a girlfriend we don’t know about?”

            _Girl_ friend? Joey chuckles dryly. “No way. You know Chandler. If he was datin’ somebody he’d never stop braggin’ about it.” Joey has a sinking feeling that Chandler’s embarrassed to be dating him, and that shouldn’t hurt so much, but it does. But why else would Chandler keep postponing the announcement? Joey thinks the statute of limitations for stealing Ross and Rachel’s thunder has passed, and his relationship with Chandler isn’t _that_ new anymore. There really shouldn’t be any reason why Chandler’s still refusing to tell anybody, unless he actually is embarrassed about the whole thing.

            Phoebe shrugs. “I guess you’re right. He probably tells you every time he makes eye contact with a woman.”

            Joey smiles weakly. Fuck it, he’s going to tell her. Joey trusts Phoebe with his life, and he knows she’d never let him down. And if she does, he’ll just infuse his spirit into her couch or something and haunt the shit out of her in the afterlife. “Pheebs, what would you do if it was me? If I was Chandler’s secret girlfriend?”

            Phoebe snorts a laugh into her drink like that’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard in her entire life—and maybe all of her past lives too.  “Aw, Joey, that’s so sweet! It’s okay if you don’t know; I’ll tell him I was joking anyway. I don’t like seeing him sad. He’s got that heartbroken puppy face going on, y’know?”

            How can Phoebe not believe him? She thought Chandler was gay when she first met him, and she’s teased Joey plenty of times about his sexuality; this theory makes way more sense than Chandler having some “secret girlfriend.”

            But Joey’s not going to argue the point. He got it off his chest, and that’s what counts. So what if she thinks he’s kidding?

#

Chandler doesn’t seem to be speaking to Joey when Joey gets back to their apartment. For a moment, he worries that Chandler somehow knows about his confession to Phoebe—which shouldn’t even count against him considering Phoebe doesn’t believe it—but then he realizes that’s ridiculous because Chandler is not a mind-reader; if he was, they would have started dating months ago.

            So Joey decides to use words to get to the heart of Chandler’s anger with him. “Chandler, what’s wrong?”

            “I think you know.” Chandler’s scowling, sitting in the armchair with his arms folded over his chest like he’s never going to be happy again.

            “Is this about what Phoebe said?”

            “No, it’s about what _you_ said,” Chandler growls, then winces like he’s said something wrong. There’s a frustrated little dent between his eyebrows as he measures each word. “I get that Ross is going to make fun of me because he’s Ross, and Phoebe works with me now so I guess that’s one of her job requirements, but did you really have to join in too?”

            Joey suddenly gets it now, and he sort of hates himself for not realizing it sooner. He sits on the edge of the coffee table so he’s not towering over Chandler. “Aw, I’m sorry. I thought we were just jokin’ around.”

            Chandler just makes a grumbling noise in his throat.

            Joey reaches for his hands, but Chandler refuses to give them over to him, so Joey lets his palms rest on Chandler’s knees. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinkin’. I just figured you knew I was playin’ around, y’know?” Chandler’s still glaring, although his expression seems to have softened a little. “But, hey, you can make fun of me about stuff too!”

            “Like the way half of your wardrobe seems like it’s one size too small?”

            “Yeah!” Joey grins, not even going to defend himself by saying that’s because of his amazing bulging muscles. He’ll just let Chandler have this one.

            “And your freakishly small feet?”

            Chandler’s a little too quick coming up with these. Joey frowns. “Yeah, that too. Though maybe you could try not to joke about that around hot women? I don’t want ‘em thinkin’ my feet aren’t the only thing that’s small, y’know?”

            “Uh, Joe, the only person whose opinion on your dick you should care about is your boyfriend’s.” He waves his hands. “Oh, look, here he is!”

            “Alright, sorry.” Joey looks up at Chandler and feels himself smile reflexively. “Y’know, the way you stress words when you talk is one of the five thousand things I like about you.”

            Chandler’s brow creases, as if he’s not sure whether this is another joke on Joey’s part. “Five thousand?” Of course he would focus on that. “You have a list?”

            “‘Course I do!” He absolutely does have a list, tucked in the corners of his mind where he keeps his go-to dirty images for Joey-time.

            Chandler fails at stifling a laugh. “Oh my God, you’re a loser!”

            “A loser you’re dating.”

            “So am I the cool one in this relationship, or—”

            Joey cuts him off with a kiss. “I think we’re about even.”

#

“You think Rachel knows about us?” Chandler asks, trying to sound casual as he digs through his closet for something to wear to tonight’s party with Phoebe and his coworkers. Joey’s lounging on the bed watching him, and Chandler can see him in the full-length mirror making seductive faces and looking like he wants to fuck him. God, Chandler’s never going to get used to the fact that Joey thinks he looks fuckable.

            “What, ‘cause of that dream? Last time, she had a dream that she slept with you. Doesn’t mean that happened.” Joey’s eyes pop open. “Did it? You didn’t sleep with her, did you?”

            “No! Of course not.” Chandler’s offended that Joey would even think that. Not only would he be cheating on Joey—which would make him the stupidest person in the entire world—but he’d also be culpable in Rachel cheating on Ross. That’s, like, double cheating. “She couldn’t know, right? I mean, there’s no way. She doesn’t know. Oh my God, she knows.”

            “She doesn’t know, Chandler. Relax.” Joey pulls himself up with his abs, leans back on his hands. His hair is mussed in a way that makes Chandler want to jump on him. “Us together isn’t exactly obvious. I mean, we could make out—with tongue—in front of Rachel and Monica and Phoebe and they’d just think we’re makin’ a joke.”

            “Or a porn.” Chandler feels a shiver along his spine. Why does _that_ turn him on? “If she knows, she hasn’t told anybody—which is good. But there’s no way to see if she knows without actually letting her know.”

            “Chandler.” Joey’s using his stern voice now. Chandler has some experience with that tone, but he’s usually naked and underneath Joey when he hears it. “Quit worryin’ about it, alright? You ought’a worry about walkin’ outta here lookin’ too good.”

            Chandler turns his head, sort of jerky. “What?”

            “C’mon, you leave here lookin’ like that, and I’ll have to go with you to make sure nobody tries stealin’ you away.”

            He feels his face flush. “You, uh, you think I look good?”

            Joey looks Chandler up and down as he slides off the bed and moves over to him. “Too good.” He grabs Chandler’s tie and tugs it so their foreheads are pressed together. “Hey, Mr. Boss Man, looks like you’re givin’ me a raise.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Why don’t we sneak off to the copy room and you can show me the WENUS?”

            Chandler can’t help it—he starts laughing. “Joe, why do your fantasies involve breaking laws?”

            “‘Cause they’re fantasies. Use your imagination.” Joey’s hands pull at Chandler’s belt, drawing it through the belt loops and tossing it to the floor with a thump. His fingers shove at the edge of his pants. “So, how ‘bout I give you a little oral presentation, huh?”

            Chandler’s about to argue that he’ll be late for the party until he realizes that he’d be talking himself out of a blowjob. He’s not going to waste this wondrous opportunity by being an idiot.

            He’s about ten minutes late, but it’s so worth it. Joey’s getting pretty good at this.


	16. The One With All the Cockblocking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the first two parts take place during 1x23 ((TOW the Birth)), the third and fourth during the week Ross is in China in 1x24 ((TOW Rachel Finds Out)). The last bit is after Ross gets back, so sometime during 2x01-2x02. Everybody confused?)

**Chapter 16: The One With All the Cockblocking**

The next evening, Chandler’s sitting on the kitchen counter, and Joey’s kissing him, one hand on Chandler’s hip and the other curled around the back of his head. This is all very surreal. Chandler never expected them to get this far; it’s exciting and trepidatious all at once, because  he worries that he’s one wrong move away from being dumped.

            “What do you want for dinner?” Joey asks. His mouth suckles the spot right below Chandler’s ear that makes his leg jerk a little.

            “Italian sausage.”

            Joey makes a face like he’s trying not to laugh at that. Chandler gets his hands full of Joey’s shirt and tugs him closer. “Careful. I’m not wearin’ underwear.”

            “I know,” Chandler says, his grin broadening.

            His hands attempt to slide into the back pockets of Joey’s jeans, but Joey grabs Chandler’s hands away and laces their fingers together. “Hey, not so fast. It takes me a little longer than you to get recharged.” Chandler thinks about making a joke here, but Joey’s teeth tug at his earlobe in a way that shorts his brain a little. “So how ‘bout we have dinner first, then we can get back to bed?”

            Chandler smiles. “Sometimes I feel like I come second in this relationship.”

            Joey gives him a suggestive grin, lifts an eyebrow. “No, you usually _come_ first.”

            “Not your best joke,” Chandler says around a laugh.

            “When you look this good you don’t have to be funny.”

            Chandler pulls away when Joey moves in to kiss him. He frowns and furrows his brow so hard he can feel the murderous dent between his eyebrows. “Or smart, apparently.”

            Something tragic flickers over Joey’s face before he replaces it with a weak chuckle. “I didn’t mean you don’t look good. You’re hot! Like, uh...” He pauses, going contemplative for a moment before he speaks again. “You ever meet somebody and you think they just look sorta average, but then the more you get to know  ‘em, suddenly they just become, like, super hot? And then you can’t believe you ever thought they were average-lookin’ before?”

            “Joey, it amazes me how you can elevate and demean in the same sentence. That’s a gift, really.”

            “Thanks!”

            Chandler can’t stay mad at him too long. It’s his one fatal weakness. He tugs Joey back to his mouth, and they’re kissing again until Chandler hears distant shouting. Joey turns his head in the direction of the sound.

            “You hear that too?” Chandler asks. “Good, I thought I was going crazy.”

            “Sorta sounds like Ross.”

            “Isn’t he over there with Rachel?”

            “And Monica,” Chandler reminds him. “Maybe they were playing _Pictionary_ and things got a little heated.”

            Joey snorts a laugh and goes back to kissing him.

            Then they hear Ross’s voice at the door: “Chandler! Joey! Get out here!”

            “God, what does he want at”—Chandler looks over at the clock on the microwave—“eight forty at night?” He slides off of the counter, making absolutely sure he’s properly buttoned and zipped before answering the door. “Can I help you?”

            Ross is bouncing up and down. “I’m having a baby!” he shouts around a gasp. “I’m having a baby!” He pulls Chandler into a tight hug, still on cloud nine, because Chandler doesn’t think he and Ross have a “hug each other randomly” type of relationship. “Carol just paged me! She went into labor and her and Susan are on their way to the hospital and Rachel’s getting dressed and—”

            Chandler frees himself from the hug; he’s still sort of hard, and Ross absolutely does not need to know that. “Okay, Ross, breathe. You’re not actually _having_ the baby.”

            “Congratulations, man!” Joey’s got his head in the fridge while he digs around for something to eat.

            “Joey, c’mon! Let’s go!” Ross calls.

            “Relax, I just need a snack.” Joey meets Chandler at the door with half a sandwich in hand.

            “Rachel! Hurry up!”

            Chandler groans internally. This is going to be loads of fun.

# 

“I still can’t believe one of us has a baby,” Joey says in childlike wonder as they stumble back to their apartment in the wee hours of the morning. They’re in that odd cusp of dawn where it’s not light out yet but it’s too early to technically be nighttime. Chandler’s starting to see dreamy little flickers in the periphery of his vision. A lack of sleep does weird things to his brain.

            Chandler lets himself and Joey inside and staggers in the direction of the nearest thing that promises comfort; he finds one of the recliners and sinks into the leather, letting out a relaxed moan.

            Joey’s pout is practically audible when he says, “I want a baby.”

            Chandler scrubs a hand over his face. “It’s late, Joe. You’re delirious. Go get some sleep.”

            “No, I mean it.” Joey flops into the seat beside Chandler. “I mean, not right now or anything, but in the future, yeah, I wanna have kids.”

            “Don’t let Monica hear you say that. Or maybe you should, and you could have beautiful babies together.” Chandler doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore. He needs to stop speaking words before he ends up literally talking himself out of this relationship.

            “Well, I’m not ready now. I just meant, like, maybe five or ten years from now.” Joey looks over at him. “What about you? You ever think about it?”

            Chandler wets his lips, laughs weakly. “I can barely take care of myself. Why would I want the responsibility of a tiny human who depends on me for its survival?”

            Joey seems oddly hurt when he stands up and stretches after a moment. “You, uh, you comin’ to bed?”

            “Your room or mine?”

            “Mine’s closer,” Joey points out.

            “Yours it is.” Chandler gets to his feet, and Joey leads him to the bedroom, pressing gentle kisses over the curve of his neck. Chandler’s trying to quell his internal horror over Joey’s sudden parental urges, which, okay, really shouldn’t automatically trigger a panic response. It’s not like Joey said he wanted kids with _Chandler_ , just that he, at some unknown point in the future, wants children. Big deal; a good percentage of the planet has that same desire.

            And it’s not like Chandler isn’t totally convinced that Joey’s going to drop him like a hot potato any day now. Their relationship has transcended Joey’s usual two-week maximum. No, Chandler doesn’t think Joey has some sort of strict rule about that, but he’s observed the pattern. Joey’s never been able to maintain a long-term relationship—whether that’s because he’s incapable of it or just doesn’t care to is a different topic entirely. But Chandler knows how it goes. So Joey’s plans for the future really shouldn’t bother him—it’s not like Chandler’s going to be a part of them.

            That shouldn’t make his throat close up like someone’s reached into his chest and squeezed his heart.

            “Hey, y’know, I was gonna make us somethin’ nice for dinner tonight,” Joey says as they’re climbing into bed half-naked. “Would you mind if I made you breakfast instead?”

            “I’d like that,” Chandler mumbles, cuddling into the space around Joey’s body. His eyes shut of their own volition. “You’re a great boyfriend.”

            “I’m the best one you’ve ever had,” Joey teases. Chandler can feel the warmth of Joey’s hand in his hair, and he wants to stay awake to savor it, but he’s fading fast, falling into the dark abyss of dreamless sleep. “Right? Chandler?”

            He’s out like a light before he can answer.

#

Chandler wakes up in Joey’s bed with Joey’s arms wrapped around him.  He’s still not used to the give of this mattress, the way his body practically sinks into it. Oh, the things this bed has witnessed—and partaken in; he’s become intimately acquainted with the headboard since he started dating Joey.

            Joey tugs him closer until Chandler’s back is pressed against his chest. He breathes hot over his neck, his nose buried in Chandler’s hair.

            “Hey, Joe?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Just out of curiousity, what else is on that list of yours? You know, the five thousand things you like about me.”

            Joey chuckles at his ear. “Well, a lot of ‘em are the noises you make when we’re havin’ sex.”

            “Why wouldn’t they be?” Chandler says dryly, but deep down inside he’s a little flattered.

            “The way you look during sex, the way you touch me, that thing you do with your tongue—”

            “Joe, let’s just stick to the ones that don’t involve sex,” Chandler suggests. “Otherwise we’ll be here all day.”

            “Okay, well, uh...” Chandler smiles to himself, amused that Joey has to think about it. “Your sense of humor, the way you stress words when you talk, oh, and the way you get all”—Joey searches for the word—“flaily when you’re excited about somethin’.”

            Chandler turns his head to look at him. “Really? You like that?”

            “Yeah! Oh, and you’ve got such a big—”

            “Joe.” Chandler thinks he made himself pretty clear about the sex- related bullet points.

            “I was gonna say heart!” Joey protests. “But, hey, you’ve seen you.” Chandler grins, and Joey trails his fingers along the length of Chandler’s arm. “You let me borrow money all the time, even though you probably figure anything else you give me you aren’t gettin’ back. But you still do it anyway, ‘cause you care. You got me the foosball table for my birthday,  you helped me out when my dad came to visit, you forgave Ross for kissin’ your mom, you offered Phoebe that job when she needed money...” Joey sighs out in wonder. “You’re like...a great giver!”

            “A great giver: the little-known sequel to _The Great Gatsby_.” Joey huffs a laugh over the back of Chandler’s neck. “So, uh, so what else do you like about me?”

            “The way your hair looks in the morning when you wake up. Oh, and the way you watch me take my clothes off.”

            “Because it reminds you of the way you look when you unwrap a candy bar?”

            Joey’s mouth stills on Chandler’s shoulder. “Y’know, I like your sense of humor, but it wouldn’t kill you to be serious every once in a while.”

            “Sorry, Joe. Can we go back to stroking my ego?”

            Joey grins and snakes a hand down Chandler’s body, reaching between his legs. “I’d rather stroke somethin’ else, if you know what I mean.”

            There’s a faint knocking sound on the front door before Chandler can enjoy the heat of Joey’s hand around his dick. Chandler groans in frustration. Then he hears Rachel’s distant voice: “You guys! Are you in there?”

            Chandler digs through the tangle of blankets and pulls out a pair of pajama bottoms. He grabs a shirt off of the floor and pulls the clothes on, grumbling the whole way as he rushes out of the bedroom.

            “We could just pretend we’re not home,” Joey says, grabbing his robe from the hook on the bedroom door.

            Once they’re both decent, Chandler unlocks the front door and swings it open. Rachel’s standing there poised to knock again. “Why was your door locked?”

            It takes Chandler about one second to concoct a plausible lie. “Oh, Joey watched _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ last night and got scared.”

            “The meat is people!” Joey wails.

            Rachel gives him a look. “If a guy with a chainsaw wants to kill you, I really don’t think a locked door is going to stop him!”

            “That’s what I said!” Chandler shrugs animatedly, gestures to Joey.

            Joey frowns at him. “What’d’ya need, Rach?”

            She laughs nervously, tucks a chunk of hair behind her ear. “Well, see, Monica’s at work, Phoebe’s busy, and with Ross away on that dig...thing, I just...I dunno, I feel kinda lonely?”

            Chandler stares at her for a few seconds. “You woke me up for that?”

            Joey sort of pushes past Chandler to move closer to Rachel. “How lonely?”

            Rachel thwacks his chest. “Joey!” Her expression changes when she looks at Chandler. “Isn’t that Joey’s shirt?”

            Chandler stares down at his chest, sees that he’s wearing Joey’s oversized Rangers jersey. In his haste, he’d grabbed the first shirt off of the floor, not paying attention as to whether or not it was actually his own. There’s a fifty-fifty chance that the pants he’s wearing are Joey’s too, and he’s beyond the point of questioning why that turns him on.

            Chandler has no idea how to answer that, so instead he says, “Why don’t you come in?”

            Joey glares at him after Rachel passes through the doorway. These random visitations are really putting a damper on their sex life.

            “Well, I’m—I’m honored that you came to us after exhausting every other possibility,” Chandler says to her. “Really warms the heart.”

            Rachel puts her hands on her hips. “Look, it’s only because you two are practically joined at the hip. It’s almost impossible to get you guys alone, y’know? I don’t wanna be the third wheel.”

            Chandler’s heart does a panicked flail in his chest. Joey saunters over to her. “If you wanted to get me alone, Rach, you just needed to ask.”

            Chandler sort of smacks Joey’s arm. “Down, Joe.” This earns another glare.

            “So, did you guys wanna do anything?” Rachel immediately looks at Joey and stabs her finger at him. “And don’t make that dirty!”

            “I’d love to, Rach, but I gotta work today,” Chandler says. “So it looks like it’s just gonna be you and Joey.”

            Joey wiggles his eyebrows at her.

            Rachel looks surprisingly happy about this. “That’s great! I won’t feel like I’m breaking you guys up or anything.”

            Chandler feels another jolt of panic. He glances over at Joey, who gives him a hopeful smile. “Well, okay then! Have fun, you two.” Chandler scurries into his room to get ready for work. Rachel knows. Rachel totally knows. How does she know? He’s been so careful keeping his relationship with Joey a secret. Maybe the whole “wearing Joey’s shirt” thing tipped her off—that was pretty incriminating.

            Joey and Rachel are arguing over what movie to see when Chandler leaves for work. He takes Joey aside for a moment while Rachel scans the paper for a more agreeable film. “So, uh, movies, huh?” Chandler starts.

            “Yeah, is that...are you okay with this? Me goin’ out with Rach?”

            “Of course, of course. I just...” Chandler pauses, trying to think of how to word this request. He decides not to mince words: “Don’t tell her, okay?”

            Joey doesn’t even need to take a moment to wonder what Chandler means by this point. “Why not? It sounds like she already knows.”

            “Maybe, but maybe not, y’know? We could be totally wrong. So, just don’t say anything about it, okay?” Chandler puts on his best sweetest-boyfriend-in-the-world face; it seems to work, because some of Joey’s ire fades away.

            “What if she asks?”

            “Lie?” Chandler cranks the smile up to eleven. Joey’s still a little perturbed; the charm must be wearing off. He’s officially used his get-out-of-jail-free card for this argument. “Look, I’ve been thinking about it, and this”—he gestures between them with a hand—“this is good, right?” Joey nods. “Well, maybe the reason is because we have to hide it. Think about it: if we can’t be all over each other in front of everybody else, all that pent-up passion comes out...” He jerks a thumb in the direction of the bedroom, then points it at the foosball table and the couch.

            Joey looks as though he’s giving this a lot of thought. “So the reason the sex is so great...is ‘cause we haven’t told anybody?”

            “That’s my theory.” Chandler shrugs. “I mean, if we can kiss and touch each other whenever we want, by the time we get here”—he makes a falling-apart motion with his hands.

            Joey seems to be following him, but he doesn’t look totally happy about it. “Okay, I won’t say anything yet.”

            Chandler pats him on the back. “Thanks, Joe. You two have fun!”

# 

“This is...different,” Rachel muses over her industrial-sized bucket of popcorn as they’re waiting for the movie to start. After much bickering over which movie to see—Joey wanted _Die Hard with a Vengeance_ , Rachel preferred _Tommy Boy_ —they end up settling on an animated musical about penguins, because it looks sort of cute, and why the hell not? He’s not out with Chandler; he can pick something Chandler would absolutely judge him for watching.

            Joey’s already a third of the way through his popcorn, and the previews haven’t even started. “Good different?”

            “Yeah! I mean, Ross usually wants to watch boring historical movies or foreign films, y’know?”

            “And Chandler...” Joey shrugs. “Yeah.” The movie’s been out for a while, which means they pretty much have free reign over the theater. They can talk if they want to, or make jokes about the movie if it sucks. Joey’s got his feet propped up on top of the empty seat in front of him. “You think Ross would be cool with this?”

            “What, the movie?”

            “No, us seein’ it. Together.”

            Rachel scoffs, takes a sip of her Coke. “This isn’t a date, Joey. We’re just a couple of friends seeing a movie together. People who aren’t dating do that all the time, like you and Chandler.”

            Joey thinks that was some sort of conversational lure, a way for Rachel to get the truth out of him without seeming like she suspects anything. If she knows about them, she’s probably waiting for Joey to correct her. But Chandler told him not to say anything, so Joey says, “Yeah, but this feels different. Ross is all the way in China doin’ some...bone thing.”

            “Thank you for making that so much dirtier than it needed to be.” Joey smiles despite himself. “But you and Ross are friends. I’m sure he’ll understand. Although...” Rachel pauses for a moment. “If you had a girlfriend, he might be less paranoid about the whole thing.”

            “What?” Joey asks through a mouthful of popcorn.

            “Think about it: he goes out of town, you and I start hanging out.” She shrugs. “I don’t see it that way, but I’m not the one who married a lesbian.”

            Joey wonders about that. Would Ross really suspect him of trying to move in on Rachel? “He trusts us, though.”

            “It’s always the people you trust,” Rachel says.

            Joey just shoves another handful of popcorn into his mouth, because the previews have started.

            The movie is kind of silly and stupid, but Joey doesn’t care.

            When it’s over, they wander out and head back home. Rachel’s still carrying her bucket of popcorn, determined to finish it. “Rach, can I ask you somethin’?” Joey asks after a moment.

            “Sure.”

            “I’m not askin’ to be gross or anything, but...is the sex good? With you and Ross, I mean.”

            “Joey!” Rachel would absolutely smack him if she didn’t need both hands to hold the popcorn.

            “I don’t need details! I’m just wonderin’ if you guys still have passion left when you can kiss and stuff in front of us.”

            Rachel thinks about it. She looks as if she might want to ask him a question of her own but decides against it. “Well, I think there is some excitement to keeping it all pent-up until you can just go crazy on each other, y’know?”

            Joey nods; he definitely does.

            “But...I dunno, it’s nice just holding hands or kissing when we’re at the coffee shop or at home. And that can be sexy too, like a preview of what might happen later, if he’s lucky.”

            Joey wishes he had experience with this. Of course, he’s been with plenty of women that way, but everything’s different with Chandler.

            “Why do you ask? Do you have a secret flame?” she teases.

            “Me?” He chuckles. “C’mon, if I was seein’ somebody, why would I keep it a secret? I’d want everybody to know.” Technically, he’s not lying.

            Rachel doesn’t argue with him.

# 

Joey’s in bed with Chandler, his legs hooked over Chandler’s shoulders as their hips move together in a slow grind. Joey has needed this all day; Chandler slept in this morning, so their usual routine of lazy morning sex went out the window. So he’s basically been waiting for Chandler to come home so they can enjoy partnered sexual activities—because it’s not like he’s going to jerk off and waste what promises to be an amazing orgasm when done right. And “right” is just like this, with Chandler rolling his hips against Joey’s. Chandler hasn’t gotten to the removing-of-clothes part of sex yet—he barely had time to remove his blazer before Joey hauled him into his bedroom.

            “Please,” Joey begs, his hands clawing at Chandler’s belt, trying to unlatch it. “Chandler, I’ve been waitin’ all day.”

            “Oh-ho, don’t I know it!” Chandler shoves his hips forward, bites his lower lip when the friction ripples through him. His hand clenches around Joey’s knee.

            Joey groans at the drag of nails over his skin, grinds his ass into Chandler’s dick, because this is just _unfair_. Chandler knows exactly what Joey wants, but he’s chosen to be frustratingly obtuse for reasons Joey’s still not clear on. Or maybe he’s just teasing him solely to be an asshole, and Chandler smirks down at him and, oh yes, he is absolutely doing this on purpose.

            Joey growls in his throat, grabs Chandler’s tie to pull his face down to his own. “Chandler, either you put your dick inside of me right now or I’ll find somebody else who will.”

            Chandler’s lips quirk into a half-smile, and that’s when a knock on the front door makes them both freeze. Chandler sits up, his eyes wide, and glances back in the direction of the door, then looks at Joey. “Okay, now that is eerie.”

            “Joey? You in there?” Ross’s voice calls from the other side of the door.

            Chandler sighs like he’s the one being extraordinarily inconvenienced here, and, no, he does not get to do that. Joey detangles his limbs from Chandler’s body and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

            “You might wanna put some pants on first, big guy.”

            Joey just scowls at him while he retrieves his sweatpants from the floor. “They do this ‘cause they think we got nothin’ else goin’ on, you know that, right?” He pulls the pants on like they’ve offended him somehow. “I swear, I am _this_ close to tellin’ everybody about us just so we can get some damn privacy!”

            Chandler tugs at the waist of his pants, pulling the material away from his still-hard cock. “I love the little fantasy world you live in, Joe. You really think they wouldn’t make some sort of game out of interrupting us?” He scoffs. “My God, they could make money off us!”

            Joey grumbles under his breath as he stomps to the front door. Ross stands on the other side with an uncalled-for amount of attitude. “Y’ever think maybe, since the door’s locked, that we’re”—Joey shrugs animatedly—“not home?” He hears Chandler huff laughter behind him.

            “Well, you _are_ home, so...no,” Ross answers. “What’s this I hear about you and Rachel going out?”

            Joey’s entire body gets into his sigh, and he lets Ross inside. There’s no way he’s getting out of this conversation. “Dude, that was, like, a week ago.”

            “Yeah, well, I wasn’t here, so I thought it might be worth discussing,” Ross says in a way that’s almost too casual. “So, uh, did you two have fun?”

            Joey rolls his eyes. “Look, Ross, it wasn’t anything! We just went to the movies ‘cause Rachel was bored and didn’t have anybody else to do stuff with.” He realizes how bad the last half of that sentence sounds, but he’s just going to go with it. “Y’know, she was worried about it too. We both wondered if you’d be okay with it, but we thought it shouldn’t matter ‘cause it’s not like it was a date!”

            Ross rubs the back of his neck, looking chagrined. “I know, I know, and it shouldn’t bother me so much, but it does,” he whines. “It’s just because I wasn’t here, y’know? If I’d been here, I probably would’ve paid for the popcorn.” He forces out a laugh.

            Joey doesn’t know what to say. To Ross, someone with a truckload of issues with infidelity, this whole situation probably looks like a betrayal, something done behind his back. And the paranoid, insecure part of Ross’s brain is definitely considering that Rachel’s in on it too, that it’s not just Joey trying to to steal her away. Joey just shrugs lamely. “I’m sorry, man. We just didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal.”

            Ross seems to be thinking this over.

            Joey decides to fill the silence with more words. “Look, I’m not interested in Rachel, but even if I was, I wouldn’t do that to you. Y’know, I had my chance. I could’a asked her out plenty of times if I wanted to. But she’s goin’ out with you now, so that ship has sailed. I’m not the kind of guy who’d steal a girl from his friend, alright? I can get my own women.”

            Chandler exhales a puff of breath in a way that Joey knows is absolutely a laugh.

            Ross nods, a look of relief on his face. “I know, you’re right. I’m sorry.” He smiles and holds his arms open for a hug. Joey takes him up on that, keeping his body a safe distance away, because he’s still hard, and Ross would definitely question that. When they break apart, Ross asks, “So how come you don’t?”

            “Don’t what?” Joey’s lost track of this conversation already.

            “Get your own women. I haven’t heard you brag about a date or a lucky night in”—he thinks it over—“a couple months.”

           Now it’s Joey’s turn to fidget awkwardly. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Chandler shaking his head. “Oh, well, I dunno, I’m sorta takin’ a break from the whole ‘datin’ a bunch of different women’ thing. I wanna be a lone wolf for a while, y’know?” Joey sort of laughs at that, because, no, Ross _doesn’t_ know. Ross needs to be in a relationship like he needs air to breathe.

            Chandler chimes in with, “Yes, Joey’s decided to broaden his horizons,” and he’s got that smug smile on his face that Joey really wants to kiss away.

            Ross gives Joey a look of amusement. “Well, when you decide to rejoin the dating world, let me know. I can give you a few tips.” Apparently Ross thinks he’s a dating guru because he’s with Rachel—which wouldn’t have been possible in the first place without Chandler’s help.

            “On what, waitin’ forever to make your move? Bein’ too scared to tell somebody how you feel?” He chuckles. Ross just frowns at him. “Please, I got that down.” He pats Ross’s shoulder, guides him to the door since he doesn’t seem to be taking the intiative to leave on his own. “Why don’t you go and try to make things up to Rach?”

            Ross looks impossibly confused. “I apologized...”

            “Trust me, she’s still mad, alright? And it wouldn’t hurt her to hear you apologize again.”

            When Ross finally leaves, Joey shuts the door, switches the lock on, and Chandler’s grinning at him in a way that makes his heart flutter in his chest.  “What?”

            Chandler laughs, glances away for a half-second, stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Oh, nothing, just being amused by you...and your words.” Joey folds a hand around Chandler’s arm, pulling him closer with gentle strength. “‘I’m not the kind of guy who’d steal a girl from his friend,’” Chandler says, imitating Joey with love as he lays his palms over Joey’s chest. “Right, you’d rather steal the friend away from the girl.”

            Joey’s lips curl into a smile. “I’ve been breakin’ all the rules when it comes to you.”

            “Speaking of ‘come’...” Chandler lets a hand drift to where Joey aches for him.

            Joey fists his hands in Chandler’s shirt, feeling the heat of arousal spread through his body. “Please,” he begs in a whisper. “Just fuck me really quick, then I promise I’ll do anything you want.”

            Chandler lifts an eyebrow. “Can I request an extended session with lots of mouth-related foreplay?”

            “Get me off first,” he breathes out, and they find their way back into Joey’s bedroom where Chandler gives him what he wants, makes him come so hard it physically hurts.

            Later that evening, Joey does the same for Chandler.


	17. The One With Chanoey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (takes place a little while after 2x06 ((TOW the Baby on the Bus)). This is where the dates start changing because obviously Ross wasn't gone for four months. So this is around June-July instead of October-November like the original episode airdates. It may not seem important, but there's a crucial arc near the end that depends on the dates being set up the way they are.
> 
> On a more interactive note, thank you guys for putting this on your favs/story alerts! :D I wouldn't mind hearing from you every now and then though ;) )

**Chapter 17: The One With Chanoey**

“Thanks for dinner,” Joey says as Chandler’s unlocking the door to their apartment. “I wish you would’a let me at least pay for half though.”

Chandler gets the door open. “Don’t worry about it, Joe. My treat.” Joey makes a sound that Chandler interprets as a sigh, because when Chandler turns to look at him he’s got this pulled-in, confused expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”

Joey isn’t sure how to say this without sounding impossibly ridiculous. “Nothin’, it’s just...you’re always treatin’ me, y’know?”

“I can stop,” Chandler says slowly, like he’s not sure why Joey would ever want that to happen. “But that would mean I’d have to learn how to cook. Would you be okay with eating my mistakes?” Chandler makes a face. “I could have phrased that so much better.”

Joey shakes his head. “I like goin’ out with you, Chandler. I just wish we could go out together as equals, y’know what I mean?”

Chandler’s making his confused face again. “No, I don’t. What’re you talkin’ about?”

Joey wrings his hands, leans against the kitchen counter. “Well, you know I don’t exactly make as much money as you do. You’re always takin’ me out to all these nice places, and the best I can do is take-out or a couple pizzas or somethin’.” He risks a glance at Chandler; Chandler doesn’t appear to be judging him. “I dunno, it just makes me feel bad, like maybe someday you’re gonna get sick of always bein’ the one with money.”

“N—no, of course not. I didn’t even think about that.” Chandler looks surprised; he probably wasn’t expecting this conversation out of Joey again. They’ve already discussed this to some degree last week when Monica proposed a celebratory dinner after her promotion at Iridium; Joey feels weird bringing the topic up again. “Usually I’m the one feeling all the inadequacy in my relationships.” Chandler lets out a humorless chuckle. Joey tries to smile, but it falls flat. Chandler moves closer to him and takes Joey’s hands in his own. “But, no, Joe, I don’t feel that way at all about you. I like your date nights. They’re fun and relaxing ‘cause we don’t have to dress up or pretend to be a certain way, y’know? You don’t have to put on pants, I can wear pajamas, and we can have sex right there on the couch if we want.”

Joey smirks knowingly; they’ve done that a couple of times. “Yeah, I know, I just wanna do somethin’ nice for you every now and then.”

“You got me the chairs for my birthday,” Chandler reminds him. “That was pretty nice.”

“Yeah, but that was before... _us_.” He wishes he knew how to explain this better, because Chandler’s not just paying for dinner when they go out—he’s been lending Joey money since he moved in with Chandler, and Joey worries that Chandler resents him for it.

Chandler gives that a moment of thought. “Well, hey, maybe you don’t have to do anything special for me. I like taking you out to fancy restaurants because you love food and I can’t cook. And I like your dates because I like spending time with you and talking about stupid crap ‘til two in the morning.” His smile is genuine, reaching his eyes. Chandler kisses him in a slow press of mouth, and Joey can’t help but kiss him back. “So don’t worry about it, okay?”

Joey nods because Chandler’s managed to assuage his worries a bit, but he still can’t shake the sense of an imbalance between them. Chandler seems to be in good spirits tonight though, so he’s not going to press the issue.

#

A week later, Joey practically tackles Chandler when he comes home from work. Chandler stumbles back and lets out a yell before Joey locks him in his arms. “I got a surprise for you,” Joey says, grinning.

Chandler’s heart is still pounding a mile a minute. “That wasn’t it?”

Joey chuckles. “No, I’m takin’ you out tonight!” Chandler blinks in disbelief. “Like, on a real date!” He squeezes Chandler’s arms to emphasize the point; Joey’s enthusiasm is near infectious, Chandler finds.

“Really?”

Joey’s expression turns worryingly frightened. “Oh, wait, you didn’t have plans tonight, did you?”

“Well, I was hoping to eat dinner and maybe have sex with my boyfriend, but, y’know, I’m flexible.”

“Yeah, you are,” Joey says, his laugh smothered around Chandler’s mouth.

Chandler groans in realization. “Not what I meant, Joe.”

He’s getting dressed a couple of hours later, frowning at his reflection in the bedroom mirror. Joey’s frowning at him too—a total confidence boost. “No, dude, c’mon, lose the shirt.”

“Buy me a drink first,” Chandler jokes. “Seriously, how fancy is this place?”

“Reservation fancy.” Joey grins.

Chandler opens his mouth to make another joke before realizing it’s probably not a good idea to tease Joey about money, especially after he’s told Chandler how he feels inferior due to his lackluster bank account. Curbing this knee-jerk reflex to poke fun at Joey is going to be harder than he imagined; ninety percent of Chandler’s personality is composed of dumb jokes. “So, the shirt goes,” he says instead, digging through his closet for something less casual. “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

“‘Cause it takes me, like, two minutes to get dressed,” Joey says with a shrug, sitting up in the bed. Chandler stares into the mirror and admires Joey’s body. Joey notices him staring; that’s probably because Chandler’s been holding the same shirt in his hands for the past ten seconds. He’s not exactly subtle. “My eyes are up here, Chandler.”

Chandler shoves his arms into the shirt sleeves in a panic. He really shouldn’t be embarrassed about ogling his own boyfriend, but Chandler’s brain has decided he’s not allowed to feel anything but shame about it.

Dinner is—for lack of a better word—weird. The restaurant is outrageously extravagant, and their booth is tucked away in a dimly-lit corner. He can barely even pronounce half the items on the menu. It’s a romantic setting, but Chandler’s too preoccupied with wondering if people are staring at them. He calms down halfway through the meal when the effects of the wine start to sink in.

“You okay?” Joey asks. “You haven’t been talkin’ as much as you usually do.”

“I’m fine, it’s just... This place is really fancy.”

“I thought you liked fancy.” Chandler makes a face at that. “You know what I mean.”

He shrugs. “It’s different.”

“But different can be good sometimes,” Joey says. “Like when Rach and I went to the movies. Or when we baby-sat Ben.”

Chandler winces at the memory. Not only did they manage to lose track of a baby on a public bus, but the whole incident seemed to breathe new life into Joey’s desire for kids of his own. Chandler is in no way ready for that conversation again.

“The resort was different too.”

Chandler smiles. “Yeah, it was. I wonder if Ross and Rachel had as good a time as we did.”

“No way,” Joey says around a laugh. “Unless they were really quiet.”

Chandler alternates between sipping the wine and gulping down water; he doesn’t want to get drunk, just buzzed enough to do something ridiculously kinky with Joey when they get home tonight.

Joey orders dessert when the meal is finished, because he’s Joey, and when it arrives he gazes at it like it’s a long-lost lover. Chandler knows that look; he’s been on the receiving end of that look many times. Joey sections off a piece of the cannoli, shoves it into his mouth. “Oh God,” he moans.

Chandler knows that sound too. “Good?”

Joey nods his head, still enraptured in delicious bliss. “You have to try it.” Chandler watches him scoop a piece onto the spoon and ease it in Chandler’s direction.

Chandler stares at the spoon, then at Joey. “What are you doing?”

“Go on, eat it.”

“Is this some kind of trick?” If there’s one thing Chandler knows about Joey, it’s that Joey doesn’t share food. But he’s become rather lackadaisical with his possessiveness lately, going so far as to share with Chandler as if sharing is a totally normal thing for him. Chandler’s still going to be cautiously optimistic about this.

Joey frowns at his skepticism. “Chandler, c’mon.” He nudges the spoon closer to Chandler’s mouth. “Open up.”

Chandler sighs. “Fine, but I’m not—” Joey chooses this moment to shove his mouth full of chewy, creamy goodness. “Oh, God, that’s good,” Chandler moans. Maybe his eyes feel a little moist, and maybe he whimpers a bit. Maybe. “It’s so good I’m crying.”

“What’d I tell ya?”

Chandler savors the wondrous sweetness on his taste buds as an idea forms in his brain. The wine has loosened him up enough to grab his own spoon and break off a piece of delicious pastry, holding it up for Joey. He can’t help but smile a little, because Joey has the most awed expression right now, like the two things he likes most in the entire world have fused into one.

Joey wraps his mouth around the spoon. That’s when Chandler hears a voice that makes him want to tear off his own skin and fly into the sun: “Oh. My. God.”

Nope.

Nope.

This is not happening. Chandler refuses to believe the world could possibly be this cruel to him.

Janice leaps up from her table on the other side of the room and clops toward them on impossibly high heels. “Well, isn’t this a precious moment? Joey and Chandler sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S—”

“We were not kissing!” Chandler hisses around the word like it’s poison on his tongue. “I was just feeding him dessert, and, oh my God, why does that make it sound worse?”

“I was just about to leave when I saw you two tucked away in your little romantic corner!” She grins at Chandler. “Were you playing a little game of hide the cannoli?”

Chandler grimaces. “Well, we were hoping to...”

Joey’s trying very hard not to laugh at that, because he’s glaring murderously at Janice. Chandler wants to slide underneath the table and curl into the fetal position until she goes away.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she says around a knowing smile.

“Just our date,” Joey says with a dry look in Janice’s direction, and holy shit, Chandler is actually going to shrivel up and die of embarrassment here.

Janice laughs; Chandler feels his insides shriek. “Oh, Joey, always the kidder.” She invites herself into their booth. Chandler ends up sandwiched between her and Joey, who’s glaring at their dessert like he blames it for all of this.

“I, uh, I wasn’t kidding,” Joey says forcefully, slinging his arm around Chandler’s shoulders and pulling him in close. “We’re together. Like, _together_ together.” The first person to know about their relationship, and it’s fucking _Janice_. Chandler hates his life, he really does.   
  
Janice’s mouth forms an “O” of surprise. “Oh. My. God! How long have you two been _together_ together?” Janice steals a bite of the cannoli; Joey gets the most horrified and angry expression on his face that Chandler’s ever seen.

“About two months,” Chandler answers like he’s under duress.

“Oh. My. God.”

“Okay, you’re gonna have to stop that.”

Janice honks a laugh and slaps his shoulder. Chandler winces and longs for the sweet release of death. “Oh, c’mon, Chandler, lighten up! You two make a cute couple. But not as cute as us—Jan and Chan!” She nudges Chandler in the ribs. “Have you gone on a double date with any of your friends yet?”

Chandler grimaces. “Not exactly.”

Janice gasps.

“They sorta don’t know,” Joey explains.

“How do they not know?”

“Because we haven’t told them?” Chandler offers with a shrug.

“So, Janice,” Joey interrupts, glaring at her, “what’re you doin’ here?”

“Well, I had a date tonight, but apparently he was too nervous to show his face,” Janice explains.

“Nervous, yeah. That’s the word I’d use,” Joey quips. Chandler hides a smile; his sarcasm must be rubbing off on Joey. He pours himself another glass of wine.

“Oooh, Chardonnay,” Janice marvels. “What’s the occasion?”

“I wanted to do somethin’ nice for Chandler,” Joey says sadly, and Chandler has a feeling that Joey’s going to beat himself up about this for the rest of the evening.

“Awww, Chandler, isn’t that sweet?” Janice grins. “You better keep an eye on your boyfriend or I’ll snatch him right up!” She laughs, swats Chandler again.

“Please don’t”—Chandler forces up a smile—“do any of that.” He tries to make a gesture in reference to the hitting, but ends up gesturing to _her_.

Janice stays for dinner, prolonging this hostage situation (because it is so not a date anymore) for another hour. At least they got their money’s worth for the wine, emptying the bottle throughout Janice’s mangled attempts at conversation—Chandler’s adamant that a conversation involves more than one person speaking.

They might actually be here _forever_.

Joey excuses himself from the table, and Chandler scrunches his face up at him as he leaves, because they’re supposed to suffer through this together, damn it. Janice cackles, still picking at her plate of tiramisu. “Relax, Chandler, he’ll be back,” she says, misinterpreting the reason for his bleak expression. She leans in, lowers her voice, which puts her decibel range on par with an angry lawnmower. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh God.” Chandler slumps further in his seat.

“You know the Mattress King?”

Chandler raises an eyebrow. “The one on Bleeker?”

Another laugh. “No, silly, the _actual_ Mattress King.”

“Oh, of course.” He rolls his eyes.

“Well, he’s the shmuck who stood me up tonight, and I wanna get back at him, and you’re gonna help me!” She gets a little too excited and slaps Chandler’s shoulder again. He doesn’t bother reminding her about his “no touching” policy.  
  
“I am?” This is the actual worst. “No! No, I’m not!”

Janice sits back, smug. “Well, okay, but if you don’t, a little birdie might tell your friends about Chanoey.”

Chandler gives her a blank look. “What?”

“Chandler, Joey: I just put your names together. It’s your couple name.”

Chandler panics, flailing so hard he nearly slides underneath the table. “When did you become evil?”

Janice gapes at him wordlessly—at least for a moment. “Chandler Bing, why don’t you want your friends to know how happy you are?”

“I—I do, but I want me and Joey to be the ones to tell them. Not”—there’s no tactful way to say this, so it just spills out of his mouth—“you.”

“Well, if you do me a teensy-weensy little favor, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

So now he’s being blackmailed into helping Janice. This is just wonderful. “What’s the favor?”

Janice looks over her shoulder to make sure that Joey’s still in the bathroom. Chandler really wishes he was in there right now, just to be away from her. He would actually prefer to be violently ill than to have this evening continue. “I want you to go with me this weekend to the Mattress King on Bleeker. There’s gonna be a big sale, and he’s gonna be there. I want him to see me with you and really appreciate what he’s missing.”

Chandler is floored. He’s not sure if he should cry or throw up. He’ll probably do both later tonight when all of this sinks in.

“So, what’d’ya say?” Janice pats his arm. “Are you game, Chanoey?”

Chandler winces at the name. They are officially a unit to her. This is ridiculous and terrifying and probably inhumane. Oh God, what if the others start calling them that too? Phoebe’s off-handed comment about lobsters has her and Monica referring to Ross and Rachel as “The Lobsters.” What if they find out about Joey and Chandler and start calling them “Chanoey?”

Chandler is absolutely not going to let that happen. “Y—yeah, yeah, I’ll—I’ll do it.”

She grins. “I knew I could count on my Bing-a-ling!” She stands up, kisses his cheek, and slings her purse strap over her shoulder. “See ya Saturday!” Chandler wipes her lipstick from his face as she clops away and exits the room.

He has no idea how he’s going to break this to Joey. He doesn’t think Joey would get jealous—because, seriously, it’s Janice—just really, really mad. Every conversation they have about telling the others never really ends; it’s just postponed until the next trigger that sets off Joey’s unreasonable need to have their coupling acknowledged.

Maybe, Chandler thinks, he doesn’t have to tell him. It’s not like they’re joined at the hip; Chandler can make up some bullshit story as to his whereabouts. If he brings home a meatball sub Joey won’t even think twice about it.

“Is she gone?” Joey asks when he comes back to the table.

Chandler’s startle reflex is working way too well tonight. “Y—yeah, she left a minute ago.”

“She _left_? She stuck us with the check?”

Chandler thumps his head back against the headrest. “Damn it! I knew something was up!”

Joey groans, collapses into his seat. He sits there frowning for a moment before reaching across the table and grabbing the plate of tiramisu. “Might as well,” he says around a bite with a shrug. “If I’m payin’.”

  
#

When they get home, Joey’s trailing silent anger in his wake as he shuffles into the shower and slams the door. Chandler decides not to push, figures Joey’s just frustrated that Janice ruined what was supposed to be a romantic evening. He’s furious about that himself.

He’s angrier that he let himself be browbeaten into playing along in her silly games. He shouldn’t be this easily manipulated. He shouldn’t be so afraid of telling the others. Why is he so afraid? He can never put it into words when he and Joey argue about it, but just the thought of coming out makes his throat close up and his heart stop.

Chandler’s kicked back in the recliner watching TV when Joey steps out of the bathroom in his robe, trailing steam now along with the silent anger that had followed him in. Chandler wants to say something to alleviate his sour mood, but he doesn’t know what words will help. He watches Joey shut the bedroom door behind him.

Chandler starts to panic the longer he sits there, because he knows he’s keeping a pretty big secret from Joey, and if Joey finds out why he’s going to be pissed. This is the part of the relationship where mistakes are critical. It’s inevitable that Chandler’s going to fuck things up, so now, more than ever, he needs something to soften the blow of those mistakes, something that might make Joey think twice about unceremoniously dumping him.

He switches off the television and inches Joey’s bedroom door open. “Hey, Joe.”

Joey looks up from making the bed, gives him a weak half-smile. “Hey, Chandler.”

Chandler figures that his presence isn’t totally unwanted. He closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around Joey’s waist, planting a kiss to the back of his neck. “I really appreciate what you did tonight.”

Joey lets out a humorless laugh. “What, takin’ you on the worst date of your life?”

“It wasn’t the worst,” Chandler says, because, really, it definitely wasn’t. He remembers where he was going with this. “But, no, I meant I appreciate that you took me to dinner. You didn’t have to do that. And it was great, save for the parts with Janice. But that’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known...”

Joey sighs and breaks out of the embrace. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at Chandler with the most forlorn expression on his face. “I know, but...I just wanted to do somethin’ nice for you.”

Chandler steps closer so he’s standing in the space between Joey’s legs. “Joe...you did.” He takes Joey’s hands in his own.

“No, I didn’t! ‘Cause then Janice showed up and ruined everything, and you ended up payin’ her check! I didn’t want you to have to pay for anything tonight.”

Chandler curls a hand around the back of Joey’s neck, his fingers sliding through his hair. “I’m sorry, Joe. But this isn’t a one-time thing. If it matters that much, you could try again sometime, maybe get Rangers tickets.”

“With my luck you’ll end up in the emergency room like Ross did.”

Chandler chuckles at the memory. “You gotta admit, that was funny.”

There’s a hint of amusement at the corner of Joey’s lips. “But I wanna take you out and have it be perfect, y’know?”

“That night on top of the water slide was pretty great,” Chandler reminds him. “Until you pushed me.” He smiles, because he’s not even mad about it anymore.

Joey grins, and Chandler has to lean in and kiss him when he looks this good. Joey gets his hands full of Chandler’s shirt and tugs him closer. Chandler straddles his lap, his knees on either side of Joey’s hips, and grabs a handful of his hair. His other hand slides into the robe, pushing the material off of Joey’s shoulders. Joey hums a moan around the kiss.

Chandler’s fingers catch at the knot in the robe. His hands and thighs start shaking from the adrenaline. He wets his lips and finds that his throat is impossibly dry. “Okay, look, Joe, I’ve—I’ve never done this before, so I’m probably gonna screw it up and just be awful, but you can’t expect me to be great at something I’ve never tried so just—”

“Chandler.”

He almost forgot to breathe for a second there. “Yeah?”

“Relax,” Joey says, chuckling. “I don’t even know what it is yet. But now you got me curious. Why don’t you just show me instead?”

“Right, right, okay. I can—I can do that.” Chandler takes a deep breath, steels himself, and nudges Joey backwards against the mattress. Chandler sort of falls on top of him trying to kiss him again. Why is this so awkward? He’s never been this hopelessly clumsy with Joey before. Sure, he’s a little—okay, a lot—panicky about putting a dick in his mouth, but he’s had sex with Joey before. Giving him a blowjob shouldn’t even be a thing.

Chandler gets the robe untied and watches the way Joey’s body curls out of it. It still hasn’t sunk in yet that this perfect body is his to touch and admire; he doubts he’ll ever get used to that privilege. Joey gazes up at him with half-lidded eyes, moans when Chandler’s head dips down to kiss his chest. Chandler opens his mouth around a nipple, teeth gently pinching the nub. Joey sighs in praise and wraps his hands in Chandler’s hair. Chandler kisses a line down his body, spending a little more time on the spots where Joey responds more vocally.

Joey hooks his legs around Chandler’s shoulders, bringing him closer. Chandler has no idea how to do this beyond the obvious. But Joey manages to do pretty well, so maybe it won’t be as hard as he thinks. Chandler wraps a hand around the base of Joey’s cock, engulfs the head in his mouth and earns himself a shaky inhale. Joey’s fingers are gripped tight in the blankets underneath him, his hips impossibly still. Chandler pushes his luck, takes him in a little deeper. Joey’s swearing through his teeth, and Chandler can tell he’s struggling not to thrust up into his mouth. Chandler does something with his tongue that makes Joey actually whimper and reach out to grab his hair.

Joey seems to like that, so Chandler does it again, swirling his tongue over the length of Joey’s dick. He’s rewarded with the strangled little breaths Joey makes, and, Christ, that’s unspeakably hot. He sucks at the tip, and that gets Joey’s hips moving and pushing into his throat. Chandler’s instinct is to back away, but he notices that he doesn’t actually need to. He’s got the entire length of Joey’s cock in his mouth and he doesn’t feel like gagging.

There’s a joke in here somewhere, but Chandler’s too focused on Joey’s soft little moans and whimpers to find it.

“Fuck, fuck, keep going, please,” Joey begs him, fingers tightening in Chandler’s hair. Chandler obliges, his mouth working at the hilt in a way that pulls a shuddery groan from Joey’s throat. Chandler hums a moan around him, and Joey shoves his hips up, trying to force himself impossibly deeper. Chandler’s shaky with adrenaline and terror-fueled excitement; his fingers tremble where he’s got them pressed into the shifting muscle of Joey’s thighs. Joey tugs at his hair, sometimes hard enough to hurt, but Chandler just digs his fingers in and Joey eases his grip.

Chandler’s been focusing on the head of Joey’s cock for a while, so he swallows him again and sucks at the hilt. That breaks Joey apart, and he’s coming hard before he can choke out a warning. Chandler pulls away as if he’s been bitten, the wet stripes tickling the back of his throat. He coughs, swallows, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Joey’s breathing soft praises and pushing a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he sighs out. “I couldn’t—You were—So good...” Chandler presses his mouth over the inside of Joey’s quivering thighs, hopes to make the post-orgasm lassitude more enjoyable. Joey sighs contentedly and drops his head back down onto the bed. “How did you...”

“I don’t know!”

“I thought you said you never did that before.”

Chandler watches the quickened rise and fall of Joey’s chest as he breathes. “I haven’t!”  
  
“Somebody’s lyin’.” Joey feathers his fingers through Chandler’s hair.

Chandler scrunches his mouth up into a frown and continues kissing lines over Joey’s inner thighs; he hopes he looks menacing, although he’s not sure how one looks menacing while doing something like this. He’ll find a way.

“Who was it?” Joey asks after a moment of silence spent enjoying Chandler’s mouth on his skin.

“Who was who?”

“The guy you, y’know, practiced on.” He gestures vaguely to his dick, in case Chandler doesn’t know what kind of practice he’s referring to. Then his eyes go wide in realization. “Was it Kip?”

“No!” Chandler sits up in a huff, his hands braced on Joey’s knees as he glares down at him. “Is it really that hard to believe I’ve never done that before? Maybe I lost my gag reflex but gained an extra nipple.”

Joey appears to be thinking about that. “Nah, I still think you had to have some practice.”

“Maybe you’re just really bad at it! You ever think of that?”

The amount of offense on Joey’s face is laughable. “No way! It’s sex! I can’t be bad at sex!”

Chandler straightens his spine a little, more confident now that he’s found a weakness in Joey’s sexual prowess. “Seems like you are, Joe. I hate to break it to you, but I think I’ve found your Achilles’ heel.” He smirks, reconsidering. “Actually, no, I enjoy breaking it to you: I’m better than you at something in bed!” Chandler feels no shame in gloating over this. He’d do a victory dance if he didn’t think he’d fall onto the floor; he’s sort of precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress.

Joey frowns, his cheeks newly reddening. “Well, I’ll just have to get better so you can’t say that anymore.”

Chandler leans over him and presses his mouth to Joey’s. “Can I volunteer to be your test subject?”

“As long as you’re not smug about it.”

“But my smugness is my best feature,” Chandler protests with a pout.

“Nah, that’s definitely your ass.” Joey’s hands skim down the curve of Chandler’s back to squeeze his ass for emphasis. Chandler jolts his hips into the touch. “So, since I need the practice, can I start payin’ you back for stuff with blowjobs?”

“I like this idea, but blowjobs don’t pay the bills.”

“They do for hookers.”

Chandler kisses him again, feels the warm slide of Joey’s hands over his spine. “Hell of a time for a career change, Joe.”

Joey nips at Chandler’s mouth and wraps his hands around his shoulders. “Alright, Mr. Funny Man, you want me to suck your dick or not?”

It sounds so fucking dirty and full of promise when Joey says it like that, his eyes half-lidded and the corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk. Chandler shifts his hips over Joey’s. “Well, if you’re doing it to pay me back, and each blowjob is worth, say, fifty bucks, you’re gonna be sucking my dick for...about three hundred years.”

Joey sits up, bringing Chandler with him, and playfully shoves his back against the mattress. His hands are planted on either side of Chandler’s head. Chandler can’t help but hook his legs around Joey’s hips. “Maybe by then I’ll be better than you.”

“Only one way to find out,” Chandler says as he pulls Joey down to his mouth.

#

Saturday morning finds Chandler bent over the foosball table after breakfast with Joey working into him from behind. Chandler will never admit out loud how much he enjoys this, save for his vocal moans and encouragements. But considering how Joey grips his hips and shoves in harder, Chandler assumes he gets the message loud and clear.

Chandler squirms, pushes back as Joey thrusts in, and he bites back a moan that would have made Joey way too pleased with himself. The next one, however, sends them both crumbling into dust, because Joey’s fucking into him at the most perfect angle, and Chandler’s strangled moans always push Joey over the edge.

Chandler works his hips through the aftershocks, and Joey’s fingers dig in, his body too wrecked by his orgasm to handle anything more. Joey groans, hot and heavy, over the back of Chandler’s neck, his hips pulsing weakly. “Fuck,” he breathes out, and Chandler can feel the tickle of his hair against his neck when Joey’s head tips forward in fatigue. “That was...that was amazing.”

“We should make that a thing,” Chandler says, still catching his breath. He pushes himself up with shaky arms. “Pre-audition sex. Y’know, for good luck.”

Joey straightens up and holds him to his chest. “Yeah, we should.” His mouth moves over the back of Chandler’s neck, kissing him in greedy pushes.

“But if you suddenly have auditions every day, I’m gonna be a little suspicious,” Chandler warns as he tugs his pajamas over his hips.

Joey’s smile is practically audible. “Aw, c’mon, Chandler; you know you got a soft spot for the Joey Love.”

“And you find it every time.” Chandler turns in Joey’s arms to get his fists full of his robe and kiss his big, dumb grin. He’ll never be immune to the way Joey’s face looks when he’s smug.

“Sometimes on the first try!” Joey says proudly around the kiss. He nudges Chandler backwards so he’s pressed against the foosball table.

“Well, it’s hard to miss.” Chandler slides his hands into Joey’s robe and lets them roam over his bare skin. He links them together at the small of Joey’s back just above his ass. “Especially when you’re, uh, as”—he searches for a different word, doesn’t find one that isn’t silly—“endowed as you are...”

Joey huffs a laugh into Chandler’s hair. “You’re not so hot at the dirty talk, are you?”

“I’m not that great at talking in general.”  
  
“Nothin’ a little practice won’t fix.” Joey puts his hands on either side of the table, boxing Chandler in close. “You can start by tellin’ me how much you love it when we have sex.”

“Wh—wh—no!” Chandler has a strong feeling that Joey gets a near-sexual thrill out of embarrassing him.

“Aw, why not?”

“Be—because!” That’s the best answer Chandler can come up with when his face is the same color as a tomato.

“I’m your boyfriend. You can tell me.”

Chandler looks away and squirms a little. He’s still absurdly uncomfortable with the fact that he has a _boyfriend_ now. “Joe...”

“Alright, fine. I’ll go first.” Joey gets his hands underneath the waistband of Chandler’s pajama pants and wraps his hands around his ass. Chandler’s entire body stiffens like he’s bracing for a crash. “I love havin’ sex with you ‘cause every time is like your first time. You get all squirmy when I kiss you all over.” He squeezes, and Chandler actually whimpers and tries to wriggle away, making Joey chuckle. “Yeah, like that! And you make those soft little noises in your throat that drive me crazy.” Chandler’s face is probably an awesome shade of red right now—maybe there’s some purple in there too. “Oh, and the way you drag your hands down my back when you come. And”—he grins, and Chandler fights the urge to kiss it away—“you get really loud sometimes. It’s great! It’s like livin’ in a porno, ‘cept, y’know, it’s you.”

Chandler isn’t sure if that’s a backhanded insult or not. He’s still pretty turned on by all of this. He squeezes his thighs together, tries to cross his legs to hide his arousal.

Joey smiles and gives his ass another squeeze. “Now you try.”

“Can we take a break?” Chandler asks, shifting his legs again.

Joey laughs. “C’mon, Chandler, it’s not hard.”

Chandler glares at him. “Really not the best choice of words there, Joe.”

Joey lifts an eyebrow and lets his gaze drift down to the growing focus of Chandler’s chagrin. “Oh, sorry. Want me to take care of that?”

Chandler’s about to die of boner-induced humilation when a kind, benevolent god blesses him with a knock at their door. He sighs in relief and feels his body actually relax. “I’ll get it.”

Joey pouts, makes himself decent by pulling his robe tighter around him and tying the sash.

Chandler has absolutely forgotten what today is, because when he opens the door he expects to see Rachel or Monica asking to borrow some sugar or something. He’s not expecting to see Janice, the bane of his existence—dolled up in an outfit that even David Bowie would deem too extravagant—smiling gleefully at him.

All traces of arousal flee from his body. He sort of shrieks at the sight of her. “Oh God, what are you doing here?” Chandler takes back all that “kind, benevolent god” talk; clearly he pissed someone off in a past life—or maybe in this one.

“Did I interrupt again?” she asks around a knowing laugh.

Joey does not look pleased to see her—or hear her. “Janice! What a surprise!”

Janice lets herself in and pokes Chandler’s chest with a finger. “Did you forget to tell Joey about our little date today?”

“Date?”

“Date?” Joey’s glaring now, alternating between Chandler and Janice as if he’s not sure who to blame for this catastrophe.

“Oh. Oh no.” Chandler really wishes he was dead right now.

“You got somethin’ you wanna tell me, Chandler?” Joey’s using his authoritative voice; it’s strange hearing it outside of the bedroom. Frightening, actually.

Chandler twists the hem of his t-shirt in his hands and glances around the room. A distraction would be wonderful right now. So he waits a little while, fumbling over words and trying to fill time until maybe a rowdy tenant pulls the fire alarm.

But a distraction isn’t in the cards for him. “Just a moment,” Chandler tells Janice before dragging Joey into the nearest bedroom and shutting the door.

“What the hell is goin’ on?” Joey demands before Chandler can even get a word out.

“Okay, look, I know I made a huge mistake here, but when we were at dinner Janice basically blackmailed me into going on a fake date with her to make some guy jealous.”

It takes a lot to make Joey look at you like you’re the stupidest person alive, but Chandler’s managed to accomplish it. “She blackmailed you? How?”

He squirms at the question, because it sounds really ridiculous when he hears it from someone else. “She said she’d tell everybody about us,” he mumbles, feeling the impending argument about to crash down on them.

Joey flaps his arms. “So? Let her!”

“Do you really want them finding out from _Janice_?” Chandler hisses. “For God’s sake, she already calls us ‘Chanoey!’” He grabs the lapels of Joey’s robe and tugs him closer. “We are a unit to her, like we were fused together in some horrible nuclear accident!”

“So I’ll just go over there right now and tell ‘em!” Joey moves to exit the bedroom, but Chandler summons near-Herculean strength and holds him at bay.

“No! No! Joe, please, just—just—you don’t even have to deal with her, alright? I’ll go on the stupid fake date, and that’ll be the end of it.” Joey blinks, and his expression softens just a bit. “If we’re gonna tell them, it should be because we’re happy about it, not because we’re trying to beat somebody else to the punch.”

Joey still has that dissatisfied look on his face, but he doesn’t seem as furious as he was earlier. “Man, two minutes ago I was in a great mood.”

“So was I. I’m sorry, Joe. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Chandler lays his hands over Joey’s chest. He drops his voice to a murmur, even though they’re safely tucked away in the bedroom. “Maybe I’ll try something new tonight.”

Joey lifts his eyebrows, his lips curled into a wide grin. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  
#

Joey wishes he knew more words to describe how upset he is with Chandler right now, because “angry” just isn’t cutting it. He’s furious that Chandler lied to him, but he’s also really, really hurt that Chandler’s apparently so embarrassed to be dating him that he’d rather go on a date with Janice to keep people from finding out.

Okay, so maybe it’s not a real date. It’s not like Joey’s jealous, because, hello, it’s Janice; Chandler has a list of physical injuries he’d rather sustain than spend an extended period of time with her. But the whole façade hurts, and Joey can’t help but feel that Chandler would have kept it a secret forever had Janice not shown up when she did.

Joey comes home from his audition later that afternoon to find Chandler milling about the kitchen. Chandler’s changed into loose, comfortable clothes, and his hair is wet and pushed back; this makes it really difficult for Joey to think about things that aren’t shoving him against the wall and fucking him open.

“Hey, Joe!” Chandler greets him with a smile. “How was the audition?”  
  
“Fine,” Joey answers, and he hates that he’s instantly suspicious over Chandler’s concern. He doesn’t know how to form his frustration into words, so he just walks by in an attempt to lock himself away in his bedroom.

“That bad, huh?” Chandler grabs Joey’s hand and pulls him nearer, thwarting his escape. “Well, I got a surprise for you in the fridge.” Joey can’t resist the temptation. He peers inside and sees a meatball sub sitting on the top shelf inside the refrigerator. It’s still warm. He reaches for it, but Chandler snatches his hand away. “But I’ve got another surprise I want to give you first,” Chandler says in his seductive voice, his arms sliding around Joey’s waist. There’s a pink tint underneath his cheeks when he says, “In the bedroom.”

Joey wets his lips, feels a smile tugging there. “Are you tryin’ to talk dirty?”

“A little. Is it working for you?”

Their little discussion about this morning can wait until Chandler’s thoroughly embarrassed himself. “Yeah,” Joey purrs, letting Chandler guide him into the nearest bedroom. “What’re you gonna do to me?”

“Lots of stuff.”

“Like what?” It’s hard for Joey not to chuckle when just skirting around the concept is making Chandler a little nervous and shaky.

Chandler sort of shoves him backwards against the bed and straddles him. “Like this.” He clasps his hands in Joey’s and folds to kiss him. There’s an aggressive edge to it, and Joey wants more kisses like this, wants Chandler to take control more often. He likes the way Chandler’s mouth tightens and his hips push down. It’s a refreshing change from their usual dynamic. And, okay, maybe there’s a quiet part of Joey that really likes being dominated. That would explain so much about why his favorite sex position with Chandler involves being bent over and fucked into the mattress.

Joey swallows a moan, his legs spread open for Chandler’s shifting hips. The friction from their clothes is maddening, and Joey wishes his hands were free so he could shove his jeans down a bit. He bites his lower lip, whimpering as Chandler presses kisses over his neck and the line of his jaw. Joey kicks his shoes onto the floor, even manages to pull his socks off with his toes while Chandler sighs hot and wet into the hollow of Joey’s throat. He digs his fingers into Joey’s jeans, hastily unbuttoning and unzipping before Joey wiggles his hips enough for Chandler to just tug and strip him half-naked.

Joey reaches down to pull his shirt over his head, but Chandler’s already on his knees at the foot of the bed, his mouth open around the bare skin of Joey’s inner thigh. His tongue draws slick lines over the hard muscle there, and Joey groans low in his throat, his head thumping back against the mattress. His hands curl into Chandler’s hair before sliding down his back. Chandler nips at his thighs, and Joey can feel the heat of his breath perilously close to his cock, hard and wanting. He wraps a hand around himself and starts to tug before Chandler takes notice.

“Could you be more impatient?” Chandler complains, pulling Joey’s hand away. “I was getting to that!”

“Could you be any slower?” Joey shoots back.

Chandler’s eyebrows form an angry slant. “Do you want this to happen or not?”

Joey decides it would be wise to shut up. He snakes his hands into Chandler’s hair and lets him control the pace. Chandler hooks an arm around Joey’s thigh and brings himself closer, his spine bowing as he opens his mouth around Joey’s dick. Joey exhales a shaky breath once Chandler’s engulfed him. In these rare moments when Chandler’s sucking him slow and steady, Joey forces himself quiet so he can hear the soft little sounds Chandler makes as his mouth works on him. When Chandler moans around his cock, Joey feels it ripple through him like a hum in his blood.

He’s not as stupid as Chandler thinks he is. Chandler only does this when he knows he’s fucked up big-time, and it really ought to bother Joey more than it does. Joey’s more than happy to make Chandler orgasm this way, but Chandler sees it as some sort of punishment, a penance to be paid for whatever mistake he thinks Joey won’t forgive otherwise.

Joey can’t see for certain, but it feels like Chandler is moving. He risks lifting his head up to watch and sees Chandler’s lower half squirming and shifting. Chandler’s head tips to meet his eyes, letting Joey’s cock slip free from his mouth. “God, Joe, I have to...” He licks his lips in a way that should absolutely be illegal before rising to his feet and crawling over Joey to reach the cubby hole behind the bed.

Joey’s got a face full of Chandler’s stomach, but he’s not complaining about it. He pushes Chandler’s t-shirt up so he can kiss the skin over his ribs. Chandler’s legs slide in the sheets. Joey rests his head on the mattress to watch Chandler. His own erection aches with unsatisfied need. “You’re, uh, you’re not gonna leave me hangin’, right?”

“Oh, no,” Chandler says around a knowing laugh. “Trust me, you’re gonna”—Joey hears the snap of plastic before Chandler’s stroking and squeezing his dick with a slippery hand—“you’re gonna love this.” He’s pushing his sweatpants over his hips before Joey takes over, because he’s great at getting people naked, and he wants whatever Chandler’s offering here. Chandler opens his thighs around Joey’s hips, gazes down at him with a lilt of a smirk on his lips. Joey watches in wordless awe as Chandler holds his cock in place and sinks down, taking him inside. Chandler’s free hand curls on top of Joey’s stomach, his head tipped back with lips uncoupled until Joey’s buried to the hilt inside of him.

“Oh, fuck,” Joey sighs out, because this is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. His hands dig into the sheets beneath him as he stares up at Chandler in reverence, his breath coming in quick drags. Chandler shifts slightly to find a better position, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands wrapped around the thick muscle of Joey’s thighs. Joey fights the urge to fuck up into him with reckless abandon, because it’s all too much for both of them, and Chandler’s got his lower lip trapped between his teeth, and his thighs are quaking when he rises up before sinking back down.

Joey lets his hands spread open over Chandler’s lower back, his fingers pressing into his spine when Chandler rocks against him. Chandler makes a heavenly sound of want each time they slot together, his hands curled into fists on top of Joey’s stomach. Joey watches every movement, tries to memorize the way Chandler’s brow creases when he grinds against him, the way his teeth bite and pull at his lip. Chandler pushes his hips back, his spine shuddering, and Joey feels it too, a low burn of lust. He drags his hands down Chandler’s ass, digs his fingers into his thighs as Chandler breathes compliments against the air. Chandler reaches blindly and catches Joey’s fingers in his own, his body trembling with the force of what’s to come. Joey gazes up at him; Chandler’s eyes are a stormy blue as he moves faster, driven by need. He clasps their hands together, and then they’re both gasping at the rock and shift of his hips.

“Joe, Joe, Joe, oh God,” Chandler hisses through his teeth, using Joey’s strength to push harder. Joey wants so badly to touch him when he’s like this, to feel the way Chandler’s spine curves and his muscles flex when he’s riding him. Chandler grinds down and howls a moan that pushes Joey over the edge; it’s hot and sharp and blinding white, and Joey thrusts his way through it, because he’s coming inside of Chandler and he doesn’t even know how to handle that. Chandler feels it too and cries out, uncontrolled, his orgasm a fierce grip of heat that’s almost too much to take. His hips thrash and twist through the comedown, and Joey mirrors his movements without meaning to, his body craving the aftershocks that reverberate throughout him.

“Jesus,” Joey breathes out when he remembers how to form words. “Chandler, that was...” He shakes his head, shoves a hand through his hair as his chest heaves. “You’re amazing.”

There’s a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I appreciate the flattery, Joe, but it won’t make me ready for round two any quicker.” Chandler’s knees slide in the sheets when he folds at the waist to kiss Joey. Joey doesn’t bother correcting him about the flattery thing, because Chandler’s just implied that they’ll get to do this again.

They take a quick break so Joey can enjoy the meatball sub in the fridge. Joey uses this lull in their lovemaking to get some answers out of Chandler. “So how come you didn’t tell me about this thing with Janice?”

Chandler’s whole face winces. He rubs his arm, looks away. “Because I knew what you’d say,” he mumbles, his voice raw in a moment of honesty.

“You think I’d be jealous?” Chandler shakes his head, and Joey understands. “We’re gonna have to tell them eventually.”

“I know, I know, I just don’t think it should be now.” Chandler wrings his hands. “Monica just lost her job, and you know how she feels about being single. It would be cruel to wave our relationship in her face, y’know, like, ‘look how happy we are!’”

Joey hates how much sense that makes, because it’s so goddamn convenient. Chandler always seems to have some new excuse to delay this whole thing. Joey wishes that he didn’t care so much about being open and honest with the others, but it’s so hard not to when they’re at Central Perk and Chandler says something particularly witty that makes Joey want to reach over and kiss him. Or when they’re lounging at Monica’s apartment during one of their group movie nights, and Ross and Rachel are cuddled close together on the couch. Or when he has to lie about wanting to be single for a while so nobody tries to set him up with some girl who’s “just perfect” for him.

Joey doesn’t think it’s so unreasonable to want his friends to know about his relationship. Why can’t he and Chandler enjoy what everyone else gets to have?

“Yeah, you’re right,” Joey concedes after a moment of contemplation. “I guess we can wait a while.”

Chandler nods in agreement. “There’s kind of another reason,” he says in a low voice, toying with the hem of his shirt. “Well, two other reasons.”

Joey waits for him to elaborate and, when he doesn’t, says, “You can tell me, Chandler.”

Chandler breathes out a sigh that sounds like whatever he’s going to say next hurts to admit. “You’ve never had a relationship that’s lasted longer than a Mento,” he starts, trying humor. “So I just...figured it would run its course.” He shrugs. “I don’t want to tell them, get dumped, and then have everyone look at me knowing I was just some flavor of the week for you, y’know?”

It actually fucking _hurts_ that Chandler could ever think that about him, but Joey kind of gets it, because he hasn’t exactly been the poster child for long-term relationships.

Joey moves over to him so he can wrap an arm around Chandler’s shoulders and pull him to his chest. He holds him there for a while before taking Chandler’s face in his hands so he can look at him. “Do I really make you feel like that?”

“No, it’s just...” Chandler takes a moment to collect his thoughts. “I’ve watched you date girl after girl, never really sticking around for too long, so I guess I just assumed that you _couldn’t_.”

Joey can’t exactly fault him for that. “I didn’t think I could either,” he jokes. “But when I date other people...I don’t know them the way I know you. So I spend a couple weeks gettin’ to know ‘em and seein’ if I like them or not. Sometimes they dump me, sometimes I dump them. But with you...I already know so much about you, so us datin’ just adds another level to what we already have.”

Chandler stares at him for a second, then he nods. “And the other reason,” he continues, his gaze flickering away for a moment, “is...well, what we have together is so good, and I just...I think if we’re out in the open and talking about it that’ll...stop happening.”

Joey goes quiet and shakes his head before moving closer and pressing his mouth over Chandler’s. Chandler reaches up and grabs onto Joey’s robe. “I’m really glad you’re talkin’ to me about this,” Joey says. Chandler gives him a shy smile. “Y’know, I’ve been worryin’ about stuff too.”

“Like what? Whether or not Bubbles the chimp was traveling with Michael Jackson against his will?”

Joey’s expression falls into something vulnerable and open. “Well, like that,” he grates out in a way that tells Chandler that was the wrong thing to say. Joey sits in the open seat beside him, his body facing Chandler. “Your sense of humor is one of my favorite things about you, but...” He pauses, watches Chandler stare at him with wide, expectant eyes. Joey pushes a hand through his hair and starts over; he might as well just blurt this out before he talks himself out of it. “I feel like eventually you’re gonna dump me because I’m not as smart as you.”

Chandler gapes at him, and there’s a sadness to it, like Joey’s words have wounded him.

“I mean, sure, the sex is great and I might be nice to look at, but...you’re gonna get bored with that sometime.”

“No! No, I’m not!” Chandler insists, shaking his head. He looks at Joey’s face and decides to elaborate. “Look, if I was just in this because you’re absurdly attractive...we wouldn’t be where we are right now.” He reaches for Joey’s hands, and Joey lets him take them. “I know I make jokes, and I’m sorry. I’ll try to stop.”

“I guess it wouldn’t bother me so much if you weren’t so”—there’s no polite way to word this, so he just says it—“picky about who you date. I mean, you’ve broken up with girls for all sorts of reasons...” He trails off, because just talking about this is twisting him up in knots.

Chandler shakes his head again, squeezes Joey’s hands. “Joe, there is nothing about you that I would change, okay?” Joey wants to argue with that, maybe mention something about how he eats his weight in food every day or that he pronounces it “supposably,” but Chandler’s looking at him with the most sincere, honest expression he’s ever seen. Maybe Chandler’s just crazy enough to like Joey just the way he is.  
  
Joey stands up and hauls him close, fingers dragging through his hair as his mouth works over Chandler’s. Chandler snakes his hands into Joey’s robe. “I’m sorry about all of this,” he says softly. “But on the bright side, the whole fake date thing worked, and Janice will be too busy dating the Mattress King to bother us.Which means”—Chandler’s lips curl into a grin—“we can finish what we started earlier.” His cheeks are pinked with chagrin; Joey’s never going to get over how Chandler looks when he’s trying to be seductive. “What’dya say?”

Joey definitely doesn’t say no.

 


	18. The One With the L Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place during 2x10 (TOW Russ)

  
**Chapter 18: The One with the L Word**

“Did that make you feel any better?” Chandler wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he crawls up Joey’s body, falling into the space beside him on the bed.

Joey smiles and slides an arm around Chandler’s shoulders. “Yeah! You’re great at cheerin’ me up.” He kisses him, soft and appreciative, tastes himself on Chandler’s tongue.

Chandler’s wearing a look of offense. “I put your dick in my mouth and it’s just ‘great?’ You gotta start grading on a curve, man.”

“Or I could start usin’ better words.”

“That too.” Chandler cuddles into the curve of Joey’s body while Joey breathes in the scent of his hair. It’s during quiet, intimate moments like this when he can feel the calm flare of breath against his neck or the rise and fall of Chandler’s back underneath his hands that Joey wants to tell Chandler that he loves him. But he knows that would send Chandler running far, far away from him and any semblance of commitment. Joey feels like Chandler deserves to hear the words, but he’s going to wait a while before letting them drop.

And, okay, maybe he’s a little terrified that Chandler won’t say it back.

Maybe.

After a tranquil lull of no sounds but their quiet breaths and the shift of limbs over bedsheets, Joey risks the question that’s been running through his mind all day: “Do you think I’m a bad actor?”

Chandler loops his arm around Joey’s waist. “Of course not, Joe. You just haven’t had your big break yet.”

“I felt like I have—a bunch’a times.”  
  
“Y’know, a lot of famous actors started out in crappy movies or plays, but they got lucky and had somebody with connections in the audience. Maybe the right person just hasn’t seen you yet.”

Joey presses his nose into Chandler’s hair. “Thanks, Chandler, but...I was kinda wonderin’ what you think.”

“I think you’re amazing,” Chandler says, tilting his head to press his mouth over Joey’s. “You do the best you can with what you’re given. Even Harrison Ford couldn’t save some of the crap you’ve been in. I can’t wait ‘til you get a part that makes everybody stand up and take notice.”

Joey really wants to tell him now, wants to breathe the words into him and let them fill his lungs. But instead he just grins and covers Chandler’s mouth with his own.

#

Chandler practically leaps out of his chair when Joey comes home from the audition. “So? How’d it go?” he asks, peering over the top of the recliner.

Joey gives a dismissive hand wave and ruffles Chandler’s hair as he comes closer. “We can talk about me later. How was your day?” Chandler lifts a suspicious eyebrow when Joey smiles and works his fingers through his hair. “Did’ja do anything cool with numbers?”

There’s only one logical explanation for this: “You didn’t get the part?”

“Well, maybe. I got a callback for Thursday.”  
  
“Hey, that’s great!” Chandler rises up on his knees so he can reach out and kiss him. Joey’s mouth remains rather unresponsive; even his hands have stilled. Chandler pulls back, studies his face. “Isn’t it?”

Joey’s gaze darts from side to side. “Yeah, but...”

“But?” It’s not usually this difficult to get Joey to say things.

He lets his hands rest on Chandler’s shoulders. There’s a nice, warm heat to his touch, despite the nervous way he’s curling his fingers in the collar of Chandler’s shirt. “Well, the part’s mine if I want it—”

“Oh my God!” Chandler can’t believe he’s fallen for Joey’s act-like-you-didn’t-get-the-part-when-you-really-did trick.

“But I gotta be willing to sleep with the casting lady.”

“Oh my God.” It rolls out in pieces, and Chandler has no idea what to make of this. He feels a curl of nausea at the mere idea of Joey in bed with someone who isn’t him. He wets his lips, blinks way more times than is necessary. “So—so what’re you gonna do?”

Joey looks at him with a distressing mix of hurt and confusion. “Of course I’m not gonna do it.”

“Wh—what? Why not?”

His brow creases impossibly further, one hand gently curling around the back of Chandler’s neck. “‘Cause I’ve never slept with someone for a part before,” he says like he’s measuring his words with extra care.

“Is she attractive?” Chandler doesn’t know why he’s still talking. Apparently his brain has decided it wants him to be miserable forever.

“She’s not you.”

Chandler makes a face. “God, don’t do that. You sound like somebody in my mom’s books.”

Joey frowns for a moment, then: “The guy on the cover with his nipples showin’?”

“Hey, this is a serious conversation. Don’t distract me by talking about your nipples.” Joey grins with pride, and Chandler wraps his fingers around Joey’s arm, trying so damned hard not to look like he’s been punched in the stomach by this entire discussion. “But, hey, y’know, maybe this isn’t such a big deal,” he says with a casual shrug. “I mean, the way that I see it is, you get a great job, and you get to have sex. Throw in a tree and a fat guy, and you’ve got Christmas.” He forces up a half-smile that hurts in so many fragile places.

Joey closes his eyes, as if Chandler’s false bravado physically pains him. “So what? We have sex all the time.”

“Variety is the spice of life, or so they say.” He smiles again, feels his weakened edges start to crack. Chandler takes Joey’s free hand in his own. “Hey, Joe, c’mon, at least think about it. This could be your big break!”

Joey shakes his head. “I don’t want it that way. Not if I have to cheat on you.”

Chandler scoffs a laugh that sounds sort of hysterical. “Don’t miss out on this just because of me. If you really want the part, you should go for it. This is me giving you permission.” He swallows thickly, tries not to imagine Joey touching and kissing her the way he does with Chandler. He knows it wouldn’t mean anything, but it _could_ , and that’s what scares him. Joey might like having sex with her instead of with Chandler; he might like _her_ more than he likes Chandler altogether. And Chandler’s hopelessly stupid enough to let it happen, to encourage it even.

“I don’t want your permission!” Joey says in a way that sounds raw and exposed. “I’m not gonna cheat on somebody I love just for a job.”

Chandler’s throat goes tight, all air gone.

Love.

Joey _loves_ him.

There’s a horrible, tumbling sort of panic inside his gut. Chandler is not equipped to handle this kind of emotional turmoil. Sweet tapdancing Christ, what the fuck is he supposed to do with this?

He scrambles backwards out of the chair, as if actually putting physical distance between himself and the confession. Joey’s watching him with wide eyes. “What? What’d I say?”

“You—you love me,” Chandler sputters out in disbelief. Joey just nods like he has no idea why this particular tidbit of information might be distressing.

“Yeah?”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me!” Chandler sort of yells. This cannot be happening. This is Joey, for Christ’s sake. Joey falls in love with sandwiches and really good pizza. Joey doesn’t fall in love with _people_. Except he totally does, because he’s willing to give up a role on _Days of Our Lives_ just to stay faithful to Chandler.

Joey’s got a worried look on his face now, as if he’s absorbed some of Chandler’s panic. “It is?”

Oh God, how long has Joey been in love with him? Chandler’s having enough trouble wrapping his head around this as it is; he really doesn’t need the possibility of Joey sitting on these feelings for more than ten seconds. “I think I’d remember!” Chandler freezes mid-flail. “Wait, wait, wait, you mean, like, friend love, right? You’re not actually _in love_ with me!” He stares at Joey, waiting for some sort of response. His mouth drops open when Joey doesn’t answer. “Are you?”

Joey stares at the floor, rubs the back of his neck in a way that makes him look almost childlike. “W—well, yeah... I am,” he mumbles. Chandler feels a little light-headed and collapses into the recliner. He scrubs a hand through his hair as Joey kneels at his feet. “Hey, Chandler, just forget it, okay? I shouldn’t have—”

“No, we’re not forgetting anything! There is no forgetting! That ship has sailed!” Chandler seems unable to control the volume of his voice. At least his flailing limbs are staying within the constraints of the armchair.

“Please tell me I didn’t just screw this up,” Joey begs, his voice slightly shaky. “You know I don’t really know how to do this...” He meets Chandler’s eyes for a moment before looking down. “I thought I did, but...it’s different with you.”

Chandler sighs and straightens up, reaching his arms out for Joey. “Joe, c’mere.” Joey moves into Chandler’s lap, and Chandler tilts his head up to kiss him. “No, you didn’t ruin anything, okay? This is—this is good.” He needs to say it out loud and hear it in his own ears. This is what he wants: for Joey to love him; it shouldn’t be so scary. It’s about time some of his ridiculous attachment was reciprocated. “Believe it or not, I’m happy.”

“You got a weird way of showin’ it.”

Chandler shrugs in agreement. “There’s a fair amount of ‘stunned’ in there too. And possibly ‘shocked.’ Even though I think they mean the same thing. But there’s a lot of ‘happy’ too. You know what would make me really happy?”

Joey grins. “Ooh.”

“Well, that too,” Chandler admits around a chuckle. “But I want _you_ to be happy. If you really want this job, then go ahead and take it. I won’t be mad or hold it against you.”

Joey leans closer and kisses his forehead. “It wouldn’t mean anything if I didn’t earn it ‘cause of my talent.”  
  
“You could, it’d just be talent in a different area of expertise.” It still hurts to joke about, but Chandler does his best to hide that. He wants Joey to succeed, even if it means he has to suffer a little himself.

“I’m not cheatin’ on you, Chandler, and that’s the end of it.”

Chandler’s certainly not going to argue with that.

#

Thursday rolls around, and Chandler’s at Monica’s with the rest of the gang when Joey rushes in. “Guess what? I got the part!”

“That’s great!” Chandler feels a reflexive, sinking feeling in his gut, even though Joey’s assured him time and time again that he’s not going to cheat. But he can’t help but worry that Joey might have bent the rules a little to secure himself a good job.

“And I didn’t have to sleep with the casting director!” Joey moves closer, sits on the top of the couch so he can see them all seated at the kitchen table.

“You were that good?” Phoebe asks around a gasp.

He glances off for a moment. “Well, I dunno about that.”

Chandler swallows. “So what’d you do?”

“I just told her I didn’t wanna get the part that way.”

“Good for you,” Ross says.

“But wait, wait, wait! Then, after I left her office, she caught up with me at the elevator and offered me an even bigger part!” As Joey speaks, he moves to stand behind Chandler. The heat of his body is like a tangible thing Chandler can just feel.

“So you slept with her?” Chandler hears himself say.

“No, man, I just told her I’m gay!” Joey claps his hands on Chandler’s shoulders, making him jump a little.

Ross lifts an eyebrow. “And she believed you?” Mr. Skeptic.

“‘Cause I’m _that_ good of an actor.” Joey looks down at Chandler and gives him a little grin. Chandler panics internally. There’s no way anyone can interpret that as anything but questionable.

But no one seems to notice. Rachel stares at him in awe. “That actually worked?”

“Yep!” Joey says proudly. “You’re lookin’ at Dr. Drake Ramoray, neurosurgeon, recurring in at least four episodes!”

“I think what’s more surprising is that Joey’s playing a neurosurgeon,” Chandler quips. Joey squeezes Chandler’s shoulders in a subtle movement that makes Chandler’s nerves tingle.

“I think it’s a three-way tie,” Monica says, and Joey chuckles—Chandler just _knows_ it’s because she said “three-way.” “I mean, really. _Joey_ , refusing to sleep with a woman for a job?”

“Hey, I got my integrity,” Joey says, giving Chandler’s shoulders one last subtle squeeze before patting him on the back and crossing the floor. “Chandler, we still on for tonight?”

Chandler has no idea what the hell Joey’s talking about, but he nods and says, “Yeah!” anyway, because there’s a chance he might have just forgotten or zoned out when Joey made plans.

Joey practically struts out the door, and when he’s gone Phoebe asks Chandler, “Ooh, where’re you guys going?”

“Beats me!” he says around a laugh, standing up to go after Joey. “Let me ask him.”

Chandler catches Joey on his way into his bedroom. “Did you make plans without consulting me again?”

Joey opens his mouth to argue against that, but instead he says, “Yeah,” with a goofy grin. “I’m sorry, I just figured since I got the part I ought’a take you out tonight.”

Chandler can’t help but smile as he links his arms around Joey’s waist. “Really? Wouldn’t it make more sense if _I_ took _you_ out?”

“Well, maybe, but I’m gonna be makin’ money now, so why not?” He shrugs, smirks a little. “Why can’t you just be appreciative?”

Chandler snorts a laugh and presses a kiss to Joey’s mouth, his hands twisting in his shirt to pull him closer. “I am, Joe. In fact”—his fingers push at the edges of Joey’s jeans—“why don’t you let me show you just _how_ appreciative I am?”


	19. The One Where Chandler Owns Up (Sort Of)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the first part takes place during 2x12 ((TO After the Superbowl, Part 1)), and the second is during 2x14 ((TOW The Prom Video)). Also, enjoy the smut and fluff now, because the next couple chapters until the end are pretty angsty. But let's be real, I think we all saw it coming.)

**Chapter 19: The One Where Chandler Owns Up (Sort Of)**

Monica and Rachel are both at work today, so Chandler’s decided to make the most of it. He’s spent a good portion of the day having sex with Joey on top of every horizontal surface in the apartment. Now they’ve moved on to the vertical surfaces, and Chandler’s shoved up against the front door, moaning his way through the rough pushes of Joey’s hips. Joey breathes hot over the back of his neck, his hands like iron fetters around Chandler’s hips as he works in and out. Chandler is so grateful that the girls aren’t home right now, because he doesn’t have to bite down on his moans and praises. He can be as loud as he wants, which is pretty liberating when Joey’s driving into him in a way that turns all his thoughts to glue.

Chandler’s fingers slide down the door, slickened with sweat, and he pushes back at the same time that Joey shoves in. Chandler groans out loud, reflexively, like the sound was literally punched out of him. Joey huffs a laugh, and Chandler can just tell that he’s smirking at that, so he shoves his hips back again and makes Joey choke out something that sounds like a whimper.

Joey digs his fingers in, his mouth making helpless little noises as he slams in harder and faster and deeper. Chandler gasps for air, his hips moving of their own accord to complement Joey’s thrusts, and then he’s howling a desperate, broken cry when his orgasm hits. His body seizes, shakes, his hands curling into fists because it’s _so good_. He might actually say that out loud, his voice wrecked and shaky.

Joey grabs Chandler’s hips and shoves him against the door, then he’s coming hard inside of him and swearing low in his throat, breathing soft compliments over his back and into his hair. Chandler slumps, impossibly spent. The door is cold against his face, and Joey’s panting praises at his ear with his body curved over Chandler’s. “Whoa,” Joey sighs out after a minute.

“Yeah, that was—that was intense.” Chandler straightens his spine, eases his pants up and over his hips. “Maybe the most amazing thing ever.”

Joey’s in the middle of buttoning his jeans. “How come we’ve never done that before?”

“Do you really want them to hear us?” Chandler asks, jerking a thumb in the direction of the girls’ apartment. “ _They_ don’t want to hear us.”

“You don’t know that. We’d wanna hear them having sex. Maybe they wanna hear us.”

“Pretty sure my involvement would put the brakes on that,” Chandler says. Joey frowns, pins Chandler against the door again, although this time they’re face to face.

“How many times do I have to tell you you’re hot before you believe me?” Joey sort of growls the words over Chandler’s mouth. “You think I’d spend the whole day havin’ sex with just anyone?”

“You’ve bragged to me about doing exactly that!”

“Hey, you’re not the only person on earth who’s hot.” Joey kisses him, hard and rough, sucking on his lower lip before catching it between his teeth. Chandler’s fingers grab handfuls of Joey’s shirt, and he’s about to say something when the door buzzer goes off, and, Jesus, that’s loud as hell when he’s right next to it.

They exchange confused glances, because who even uses that thing anymore? But Joey’s the first one to reach over and answer it. “Hello?”

A sultry female voice says, “It’s Erica.”

Chandler feels his heart in his throat but tries not to look too panicky. He gives Joey a questioning look. Joey says, “The stalker.”

Chandler takes that as permission to panic, considering this woman believes Joey is actually Dr. Drake Ramoray and sent him a letter with her own eyelashes included.

She says, “Oh, never mind. It’s open,” and Chandler’s scrambling with the buttons of his shirt while Joey’s on a frantic search for some sort of weapon in the kitchen. If Chandler’s going to die, he’s not going to die in a state of undress.

A knock on the door makes them both freeze. Joey has a brief moment of existential panic before he opens the door. Chandler is absolutely not prepared to see that Joey’s stalker is actually really hot. Apparently, neither is Joey.

Joey’s mouth drops open. “Erica...”

“Oh, Drake.” She lets herself in, places her hands over his chest. Chandler feels a piercing pain in his chest as his self-esteem withers. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

Joey chuckles nervously. “Well, have I got news for you...”

Erica looks past him and notices Chandler standing there. “And you are...?”

It takes Chandler the length of one heartbeat to analyze his options here. They’ve been dating for about four months and they still haven’t told the others yet, so Chandler’s on thin ice right now. Confessing the truth here would make Joey feel good and might discourage this woman from pursuing him romantically.

_You’re not the only person on earth who’s hot._

How well Chandler knows.

“I—I’m his boyfriend,” Chandler blurts out, tugging Joey closer.

Joey’s smile is completely authentic as he links an arm around Chandler’s waist. “Yeah, I’m as gay as the day is long.” It doesn’t sound like a lie, but Joey’s already claimed to be gay to get the _Day of Our Lives_ role; maybe the claim is just second nature to him now. “We were actually havin’ sex before you buzzed in.” Chandler pokes an angry finger into his side, because _too much information_.

“Oh.” Erica looks devastated, like a child who’s just been told Santa isn’t real. It’s depressing to watch, even though she’s a few fries short of a Happy Meal. “But—but I saw you kiss Sabrina...”

“Well, that was before I met Chandler.” Joey hauls him closer, and Chandler gives her a smile and an acknowledging-the-crowd wave like he’s just been introduced on Leno. “I’m sorry, Erica. I just don’t think it’s gonna work between us, you being...y’know, a woman.”

“Not even a lunch date? Just between friends?”

Joey scoffs. “I am not interested in women at all. I don’t even have any friends who are women! My head’s just filled with thoughts about guys and penises and...man stuff.”

Chandler has never tried harder in his life not to laugh.

“Is this true?”

“Oh yeah,” Chandler says, nodding and smiling. “In fact, his head isn’t the only thing that’s filled with penises. Er, penii. Singular. One. Mine.” He thinks for a moment, then blurts out: “We have sex!”

“We could show you if you want,” Joey offers. Chandler nods some more for effect.

Erica shakes her head, grimacing a little. “N—no thanks.” She forces up a smile and backs out of the doorway. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be, Drake. It was nice to finally meet you.”

Erica’s in the stairwell when Joey sticks his head out the door and calls, “Hey, do you want your eyelashes back?”

Chandler thinks it’s okay to start laughing now, so he does. God, it hurts to laugh, but he can’t stop. Joey shuts the door and sidles up next to him, smothering the laughter with his mouth. “That was amazing,” he says around the kiss, his hands tugging Chandler’s shirt from his pants. “You actually told her!”

Chandler’s grinning ridiculously wide, their mouths meeting over and over between sentences. “Don’t give me all the credit. You were very convincing.”

“Hey, you helped a lot.” Joey moves forward, easing Chandler backwards until his ass bumps against the kitchen counter. “I’m not that great an actor.”

Chandler can’t stop smiling, even as Joey gets him turned around and bent over. “I guess it really helps that you’ve gotten a lot more penis-oriented since we started dating.” Joey grinds against him, and, oh fuck, Chandler can feel the swell of his dick over his ass. He wants it so badly, but Joey’s been fucking him all day, and Chandler’s kind of looking for a change of pace. “Hey, Joe, why don’t you give yourself a break and let me take over for a while?”

Joey stares at him in what Chandler can only describe as aroused awe. “You’re like some kind of sex genius!” His eyes widen further. “The door or the table?”

“Why not both? We’ve got all day.” Chandler’s salacious grin fades when he says, “Wait, if she thought you were Drake Ramoray, how’d she find this apartment?”

#

Chandler’s at work when he gets a call from Joey. “You comin’ home tonight?” Joey asks.

“No, I was planning on robbing a bank and starting a new life in the countryside as an outlaw.”

Joey chuckles. “C’mon, be serious. Are you workin’ late?”

“Well, that depends,” Chandler says, twirling the phone cord around his finger. “Are you gonna work _me_ hard or—” He pauses. “Oh, you said working _late_...”

“Look, I got somethin’ really special planned for you when you get home tonight, and it would really mean a lot to me if you were there,” Joey says in a low voice, like he’s embarrassed to admit it. If Joey’s embarrassed about it, it’s probably something sappy and romantic—just the way Chandler (secretly) likes it.

“I’ll try to be home for you, Joe. Thanks.”

Chandler ends up staying at the office a few hours later than he’d planned, and he feels like shit for making promises he ends up breaking. He’d called Joey when he knew he’d be a little late, but Joey’s apparently planned something for them that Chandler’s inexplicably ruined by spending too much time at work. He’s dreading the look on Joey’s face when he opens the door to their apartment, but instead he’s greeted with a giant television screen that’s replaced their old one. Joey’s lounging in one of the recliners with an open box of pizza in his lap.

“Did I shrink or did the TV get bigger?”

Joey springs up from his seat and meets Chandler in the foyer. “No, I got us a new one! Since I’m makin’ money now, I figured I could, y’know, do somethin’ nice for you.” His voice goes low at the end, cracks off in chagrin.

Chandler’s going to need to learn how to cope with coming home to extravagant surprises. He blinks in stunned silence for a moment before snapping back to his senses. “God, Joe, you’re amazing, you know that?”

Joey gives him an “aw, shucks” smile, rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, and I got you somethin’ else too!” He grabs an envelope off of the kitchen counter.

“What’s this?” Chandler takes it from him, finds a thick wad of money inside.

“Eight hundred and twelve bucks,” Joey announces proudly.

Chandler’s gaze flicks from the money to Joey, then back to the money. “Is this for the sex we had this morning? Because even I don’t think I was that good.”

Joey laughs. “No, man, it’s payin’ you back for all the head shots, electric bills, and so many slices of pizza I can’t even count.” He steals a quick kiss while Chandler’s lips are parted in awe. “I love you.”

Every time Joey says that, Chandler feels his heart swell in a weird way, like he might actually _like_ hearing it. Like he might feel the same way about Joey. That’s usually enough to startle him out of the dreamy daze those three words put him in. “You did all this for me?”

“Of course! I thought I’d go the extra mile tonight since it’s my turn to take you out,” Joey says. “But we’re, y’know, stayin’ here.”

Chandler thinks his heart may have actually melted into a gooey puddle on the floor. God, he’s a fucking sap.

After a quick shower, he joins Joey in front of the television for a relaxing evening with delicious pizza and beer. Chandler’s amazed that he has a boyfriend who’s so wonderfully low-maintenance, that Joey’s idea of a date is what they usually end up doing every night. But while the presents and unexpected gifts are certainly very thoughtful, Chandler can’t help but feel an imbalance between them. He’d have to buy a truckload of pizzas or sub sandwiches to equal the cost of the new TV. Hell, he still hasn’t paid Joey back for the chairs, unless Joey’s counting sexual favors as payment. Okay, maybe the money Joey paid him means they’re square for the recliners, but then Joey had to buy the TV and throw them out of whack again.

And it’s not like he can actually say any of this without sounding ungrateful.

“You okay?” Joey asks after a while of disconcerting silence from Chandler. “You’re awful quiet tonight.”

Chandler wonders if speaking candidly will be in his best interest. Things seemed to go well the last time they had a serious discussion about their emotions, but he really, really doesn’t want to hurt Joey’s feelings. “Joe, would you be too upset if we toned down the gift-giving a bit?”

Joey looks over at him, thoughtfulness in his eyes. “How come?”

“It just....” There’s no way to say this that isn’t pathetic, so Chandler just comes out and says, “It makes me feel bad, okay? Because on top of giving me you, you’re giving me all this great stuff, and it’s just so much more than I deserve.”

To Chandler’s surprise, Joey laughs. “Are you kidding? You ever think maybe you got it backwards?”

Chandler shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “Why don’t we just chalk it up to an impasse and call it even?”

“So, what, no more presents?”

“Nothing I can’t realistically pay you back for,” Chandler explains.

Joey thinks that over for a minute. Then, in apropos of nothing, he grins. “Then let me give you one more thing, okay? Close your eyes.”

Chandler sighs, but does as he’s asked. “Joey...”

“You don’t even know what it is yet!” Joey argues back, and he sounds like he’s in another room now.

Chandler rolls his eyes—an impressive feat, considering they’re tightly shut—but doesn’t raise complaint. He hears footsteps, then feels a warm, heavy weight in his lap. “Can I open my eyes now?”

There’s a hot press of mouth over Chandler’s lips, and he reaches out blindly to tangle his fingers in Joey’s shirt. Chandler ends up with a handful of chest hair instead.

His eyes pop open, and, holy fucking Christ, Joey’s sitting naked in his lap. “Whoa, hey, what, uh, what happened to your pants?”

There are so many ways for Joey to answer that question, but he goes with: “Do you find my lack of pants disturbing?”

Chandler makes a graceless snort of a laugh. “Are you giving me a lap-dance? Is that what this is?”

“Well, sorta,” Joey says, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re gonna have to lose the clothes though.” He reaches down, peels Chandler’s sweatpants down past his hips so he can smooth his fingers into the flap of his boxers. “Or maybe I can just...” Joey brings Chandler’s cock out of the opening of his shorts, and Chandler just stays frozen, watching in awe, because this is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He feels like he rates every one of their sexual experiences that way, but it’s not hyperbole—somehow Joey outdoes himself every time.

Joey squeezes his fist around the base of Chandler’s cock while he tears the packet of lube open with his teeth. His other hand works to slick him up, and then Joey’s crawling closer and sinking down, taking Chandler’s rigid line of heat inside with an appreciative groan. Chandler’s forgotten how to make words anymore, so he just scoots down to let Joey roll his hips harder and take him in deeper. Joey grips his fingers into the leather armrests, bites his lower lip while he grinds down in Chandler’s lap, wanton and needy.

Chandler wraps his hands around Joey’s ass, feels the flex and shift of the muscles there as he moves. Joey drops his head against Chandler’s forehead and kisses him, hungry and slow. “Do you like this?” Joey asks in a murmur around his mouth.

“Of course,” Chandler breathes out. “It’s always good with you.” He’s not going to tell him the truth, that he fucking loves this, because he wants Joey to work for it a little. Joey starts to say something, but it’s subsumed in a gasp as Chandler brings a hand to the jut of Joey’s dick and rubs his thumb down the length of it. Then Joey’s got his hand wrapped in Chandler’s hair and around his shoulders, his hips pushing into Chandler’s fist and riding his cock.

Joey’s moaning in between kisses, his hands fisting in Chandler’s t-shirt as they move together. Chandler tips his head forward, opens his mouth around a nipple and sucks at it while his fingers work over Joey’s dick. Joey makes a cracked noise in his throat, breathes out Chandler’s name like he’s drunk on it. That’s when Chandler starts moving his hips and shoving up into him, and Joey’s moans get louder, and Chandler can feel the heat on his skin as he gets closer.

“Joe, I’m gonna come,” he warns in a ghost of a whisper over Joey’s mouth. His free hand slides across Joey’s back to feel the taut skin drawn over his spine, the other hand still squeezing and stroking his cock.

“Good,” Joey sighs, choking out a whimper as Chandler moves again. The jutting peaks of his back shift and roll as his shoulders quiver. “Fill me up.”

Joey works his hips against the hilt of Chandler’s dick before rising up a little and dropping down in a plunge, and that’s all either of them need to fall over the edge together, with Chandler pouring hot inside of him and Joey spilling over Chandler’s fingers, tight and wrecked around his cock. Chandler drags a hand down Joey’s back, chanting soft praises over and over into the hot skin of Joey’s chest as his orgasm’s stripped from his bones. “God, Joe, fuck, that was...” he breathes out, his hands shaking a little. Joey’s thighs are quivering, his breath hot in Chandler’s hair.

“Somethin’ you could pay me back for?” Joey teases.

Chandler grins impossibly wide. “All night, if you think you can handle it.”


	20. The One With the Italian Thanksgiving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A bit of a time-skip here; this chapter's supposed to take place during 2x16 ((TOW Joey Moves Out)), but with the tweaked S2 timeline that means there's a couple months I'm skipping over since the last chapter. Just pretend nothing particularly plot-worthy happened in those months?
> 
> Also: I'm sorry for this chapter. But, c'mon, you had to see it coming, right?)

**Chapter 20: The One With the Italian Thanksgiving**

Joey comes up with a brilliant idea while he’s in the shower, and he gets halfway to the front door before realizing that Monica probably wouldn’t appreciate him bursting in half-naked and drippy. He towels off in the bathroom and throws on a t-shirt and jeans to make the trip across the hall. Monica’s digging through the fridge when Joey comes in.

“Mon, you seen Chandler?”  
  
“No, why?” She’s about to pour out the contents of a jar of olives, but Joey rushes over and stops her.

“Whoa, whoa, lemme see these.” He takes the jar, sniffs it, plucks out an olive and pops it into his mouth. Doesn’t taste too bad. “I think they’re still good.”

“Well, go ahead and eat ‘em. In fact, you can help me while I’m cooking.” She turns her attention back to the stovetop to stir something.

“Sure, what’d’ya need?”

An hour later, Joey’s kneeling down to put a pumpkin pie into the oven when Chandler walks in. “Hey, Mon, is Joey around?”

“Yeah, he’s right”—Joey shoves the pie into the oven and shoots up, hip-checking the oven door closed—“here.” Monica’s wincing like she’s just been stabbed—or, rather, like the pumpkin pie Joey just put into the oven has been destroyed.

Joey rushes over to him before Chandler can properly assess the mildly incriminating situation. “Hey, Chandler, just the guy I wanted to see!” He looks over his shoulder at Monica. “Can I take a break?”

“Go ahead, but you’re on yam duty when you get back.”

He brings Chandler inside their apartment for a moment, and there isn’t enough money in the world to get Joey to stop smiling. Chandler’s watching his face with curious concern before Joey gives in and kisses him, his mouth open over Chandler’s. Chandler hums a contented sound, and his fingers end up underneath Joey’s t-shirt. Joey wants to haul him closer and make it all shake out of him, but he needs to focus here, so he takes a step back. Chandler’s staring at him, open-mouthed and dismayed by the abrupt end to the kiss.

“You’re not doin’ anything tomorrow, are you?” Joey asks.

“Aside from my traditional holiday dinner of tomato soup, grilled cheese, and Funyuns? No.”

“Great!” Joey nearly punches the air with his fist. “How would you like to come with me and have Thanksgiving with my family?”

Chandler’s blinking way too much. “What?”

“Well, you were gonna be alone last year ‘til everybody’s plans got ruined, and this year since Monica and Ross are spendin’ it with their parents, Rachel’s spendin’ it with hers, Phoebe’s gonna be with her grandma....” Joey shrugs and spreads his hands as if to say “why not?”

Chandler stares at him for a couple of silent, terrifying seconds. “That’s...wow, okay...” He shoves a hand through his hair, shifts his weight to his other leg. “This is—this is big.”

“What? No, it’s not! It’s nothin’! What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you stay here alone?” Joey watches Chandler’s face go through some sort of complicated wince at that. “Unless you _wanna_ stay here?”

Chandler gives a non-commital shrug. “I dunno, it’s kinda...big. Meeting your family, I mean.”

“You already met my parents,” Joey reminds him. “And they liked you! Everybody else will too.” Chandler appears to be unmoved by this appeal to his emotions. Joey takes Chandler’s hands in his own. “Hey, look, I know you don’t have the best memories about this holiday, but they don’t have to be all bad! You’re with me now!” It’s impossible for Joey to _not_ grin like an idiot when he says that; even Chandler manages a little twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “C’mon, I don’t want you sittin’ here all by yourself tomorrow. How would you feel if it was me?”

Chandler does that tongue thing inside of his mouth that makes Joey want to cover it with his own. “Okay, okay, we’ll—I’ll go with you.” He smiles, all shyness and wonder and joy, and Joey can’t help but kiss him this time.

#

Chandler’s flitting about the apartment the next morning while Joey’s in the shower. At some point tonight, there’s a good chance Joey’s going to tell his parents that he’s dating Chandler. So, yeah, that’s a thing that’s happening. Over Thanksgiving dinner. Not at all reminiscent of the huge announcement on Thanksgiving that destroyed his childhood. Nope. Not similar to that at all.

Except it totally is.

Would Joey’s parents even be okay with this? Not one person is going to object to the whole gay thing, or even argue that Joey could do better (because he absolutely could)? Sure, Joey knows his family and how they might react to this sort of news, but odds are that he never discussed something like this with them before. Why would he? Before Chandler came along Joey had a better chance of discovering extraterrestrial life than falling in love with another guy.

There’s no way Chandler can back out of this now, because he’s an idiot and didn’t secure a good alibi. And there’s a possibility Joey might cry if Chandler says he’s not going. So...definitely going.

Chandler takes a moment to think about that.

He is so screwed.

#

The ride to Joey’s parents’ house is woefully short. Chandler tries to psyche himself up, but that only seems to freak him out more, because he can’t stop thinking about how admitting to this makes it _real_ and fragile and breakable.

“So, Joe, uh,” Chandler starts as they’re walking up the driveway, “your parents, do they—do they know?”

“No, actually, I was hopin’ we could tell them tonight.” Joey’s smiling all optimistic like he has no idea of all the ways this could go wrong.

Chandler slows his pace. “You, uh, you think that’s a good idea?” he says in his best non-confrontational voice.

“Why not? I mean, we’ve been goin’ out for, what, nine months? That’s like a whole baby!”

“Are you sure they’ll be okay with it?”

Joey shrugs. “Yeah, probably.”

Chandler freezes mid-step. “ _Probably_? You’re gonna do this on a ‘probably?’ Are you crazy?”

Joey turns around to face him, moves closer. “No, I just—” He shrugs again. “I feel like they’ll be cool about it.”

“But you’re not sure?”

“Sometimes it’s different when it’s family.”

Chandler knows how true that is. He swallows hard as Joey starts walking again. They’re at the porch now. Joey’s knocking on the door. “Maybe we should think about—”

Gloria Tribbiani swings the door open and pulls Joey into a hug. “There you are! Come in, come in!” She looks at Chandler as he passes by. “Chandler, good to see you again!” She sounds surprised to see him. Joey definitely didn’t mention this to them beforehand. This is bad. This is very, very bad. Why must Joey be so spontaneous? “Joey talks about you all the time,” she says.

Joey sighs. “Ma...”

“He—he does?”

“Oh, of course! You two must be very close.”

Chandler wonders if she knows or if she’s just really oblivious. With Joey’s family, it’s anybody’s guess.

After a minute or two, Chandler manages to pull Joey away from the delicious food while the table’s being set. He gets him into the hallway, his hands full of Joey’s shirt. Joey grins. “Ooh, Chandler.”

Chandler realizes how this looks and lets his hands fall away. “N—no, no, I just wanted to talk for a bit.” Joey’s smile goes flat. “We’re, uh, we’re not telling them now, are we?”

“Why not?”

“It’s just...if you tell them all at once over dinner, it sorta makes it bigger than it really is, y’know? I mean, we’re just dating right now; we’re not announcing an engagement or anything. And if somebody has mixed feelings about it, they could start a whole thing, and just—”  
Chandler takes a moment to breathe. “I think it would be better to tell them separately, over the phone like it’s something casual, y’know?”

Joey’s expression slowly shifts into something akin to irritation. “So, you don’t wanna tell them tonight, huh?”

“Maybe we could tell them together the next time we see them?” Chandler pushes up a hopeful smile. “Your birthday’s comin’ up in about a month or two! We could do it then!”

Joey huffs out an angry breath, tightens his jaw. “How come just ten seconds ago it was ‘you should tell them separately over the phone,’ and now it’s ‘let’s tell them together next time we see them?’”

Chandler swallows and takes a step back. “I’m just giving you options—”

“You really expect me to give you the benefit of the doubt here?”

Chandler stares at him in stunned silence. He’s about to say something when Mr. Tribbiani finds them in the hallway and calls out, “What’re you kids doin’ in here? Food’s ready!”

Joey doesn’t even look back as he heads into the kitchen.

Chandler feels a churning worry in his gut.

#

Neither of them seem to be speaking to each other, choosing to sulk in silence on the ride home. Joey can’t understand why Chandler’s so emotionally fucking _stupid_ about this whole thing. It’s not like Joey wanted to tell the entire world about them—just his family, people he trusts will be welcoming and warm to their potential son-in-law. And, okay, maybe he could let Chandler know this in advance, but it’s been nine goddamn months, and they haven’t even told their friends yet. At what point is Chandler going to be comfortable enough with the idea of them to broach the topic?

Joey’s going to go with never, because Chandler can’t seem to get over his neurotic, emotionally-stunted bullshit to ever let this go any further than some sort of dirty secret he’s ashamed of.

The air around them has that thick, uncomfortable tension again when they get back to the apartment. Chandler doesn’t slam the door behind him when he steps inside, just shuts it quietly, as if the sound alone might trigger an argument. Joey can hear the soft, frustrated huff of Chandler’s breath in the soundless space between them.

Chandler speaks first: “Joe, I’m sorry.” It sounds destructive against the silence, because Chandler’s been apologizing for what seems like forever, but it never _does_ anything.

“Yeah, I know you are.”

Chandler breathes out, steps closer to him. “Do you—do you need me to...make it better?” He gets his hands around Joey’s waist before Joey’s pushing him away.

“Chandler, no, you don’t get to do that! You can’t just get me into bed and think that’s gonna fix this, okay?” He hates that he’s given Chandler the impression that kind of negotiation works on him, that he never showed resistance to this tactic before.

Chandler shrinks beneath his fury. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I—”

“Do you realize we’ve been keepin’ this secret for nine months?”

“I know, and I’m sorry—”

“You’re always sorry! But you never do anything about it! You just keep comin’ up with reasons why we can’t tell anybody. Now, look, I think I’ve been way more than fair in compromisin’ with you on this, but now it’s your turn. Do you have any idea how much it hurts that you wouldn’t let me tell _my own family_ that we’re together?”

“You know why?” Chandler blurts out, “Because the last time I was involved in a big announcement over Thanksgiving dinner, my parents got divorced!”

Joey rolls his eyes. “Chandler, that was—” He stops, drags a hand through his hair, because he doesn’t want to go down that road here.

“I can’t be part of something like that again! I don’t want our relationship to be something that drives a wedge between you and your family.”

“It wouldn’t happen like that,” Joey promises. “But, no, you gotta make me keep your stupid secret!” Chandler opens his mouth to speak, but Joey interjects, “Yeah, it’s _your_ stupid secret, ‘cause I don’t feel ashamed about it!”

Chandler sighs, suddenly weary; Joey’s tired too, tired of having this same argument over and over with no resolution, just postponement. “Tell me what you want, Joe.”

“I don’t want you to be ashamed of us.”

“I’m not—”

“Then why have you kept tellin’ me ‘no, not yet, Joey,’ and ‘just give it a little more time’ for almost a year?”

“You know about my father. You know how much I don’t want to be like him,” Chandler says, sounding pitiful.

“Well, maybe you should.”

“What?”

“At least he had the courage to be true to himself! You can’t even tell our best friends that we’re together!”

“It’s not just that,” Chandler says, grasping for the proper explanation. “If they know we’re going out, it’s like we’re going out with all of them! And then there’s expectations: marriage, kids, the whole package. And if things don’t work out, what if we can’t go back to being friends? We could end up never speaking to each other again. And because it’s like going out with all of them, we could lose our other friends too!”

Joey squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. As smart as Chandler is, he doesn’t seem to understand that everything comes with risk; sometimes happiness doesn’t come with a safety net. Chandler views the world through a lens of black and white, where everything falls into one category or the other with no in-between. There are no compromises, no exceptions. His relationship with his father has poisoned him; everything he sees, thinks, and believes is polluted by his own self-loathing and internal homophobia. “Chandler, if you wanna be with me you’re just gonna have to get over that.”

“Why can’t we just...be like this, the way we’ve been?”

“Because that’s not enough for me,” Joey says plainly. “Not when I feel the way I do about you. I don’t wanna be treated like some whore you’re embarrassed about. I’m worth more than that.”

Chandler moves closer, places his hands over Joey’s chest. “Joe, of course you are. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. If it will help, I’ll—we’ll tell them tomorrow.”

Joey actually pulls away from his touch like it’s a hot iron against his skin. “Oh no, I’m not fallin’ for that one! You’re stalling, Chandler. It’s always somethin’ with you. The first time I wanted to tell, you said we should keep it to ourselves ‘cause it was new. Then the next time your excuse was that Ross and Rachel just got together and you didn’t want us to ‘steal their thunder.’ Then it was ‘cause of the baby. Then it was ‘cause Monica lost her job. Then it was ‘cause of Susan and Carol’s wedding. Every single time, you find some new excuse to delay it.”

Chandler actually squirms and looks away, because he knows Joey’s right.

“Maybe you’re not delayin’ it this time, but, y’know what? I can’t trust you to be honest with me. And if I can’t trust the—” Joey stops himself, scrubs a hand over his face, because he’s not going to say _that_ here, not when it’s used as ammunition against Chandler.

They stand there in a silence that seems to fill the room and weigh them down. Joey doesn’t like where this is going. He feels like he’s strapped to a train headed for disaster. And there’s no way to stop it. Chandler seems hell bent on keeping his goddamn secret, even to the detriment of his own happiness. “I wanna feel like I’m important to you, Chandler. When you keep insistin’ we don’t tell anyone, you make me feel like I don’t matter, like I’m worthless.”

Chandler blinks, his eyes wide in horror. “I—I make you feel...?” His brow creases and makes that little dent of worry between his eyebrows more pronounced. “Joe, I never meant to make you feel like that.”

“How else am I supposed to feel when you’re too ashamed and embarrassed to tell our best friends that we’re dating? I’m not askin’ you to tell the world—just four people we trust with our lives. If you can’t give me that after all this time, how am I supposed to trust you?”

Chandler’s eyes tighten, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Either we tell them, or I’m gone,” Joey says at last. “I’m not gonna stay with you if you don’t respect me.”

“Of course I respect you, but—”

“No buts! God, this isn’t rocket science, Chandler! Aren’t you gettin’ tired of hidin’ this? How are we supposed to have a real relationship if you can’t even tell our best friends about it?”

Chandler doesn’t say anything, just wears his “guilty” face that Joey knows so well. Then it finally hits him, a slow dread dawning, and a whole lot of things make sense at once.

“You don’t...you’re never gonna make this anything more than it is, are you?” Joey croaks out. “You were just fuckin’ around with me, figurin’ I’d get bored, move on and date some girl. That’s why you got so scared when I said I loved you.”

Chandler’s expression ripples with lament, like the words have cut through him. “Joe, that’s not—that’s not what this is—”

“Really? Because it doesn’t make sense any other way! Why else would you wanna keep this whole thing a secret? Just ‘cause you’re embarrassed? You’d think after nine months you’d get over that!” Chandler opens his mouth like he wants to say something but stops. Joey keeps going. “But no, here I am lyin’ for you every time somebody asks why I’m still single or tries to set me up with some girl, and you’re pretty much just usin’ me!” Joey feels an icy finger prickle at his spine that actually makes him stiffen up. “Is that why you asked me to stop buyin’ you stuff? ‘Cause you felt guilty that you’re just screwin’ around with me?”

Chandler physically recoils from the words like he’s just been slapped. “No! That’s not me! I don’t ‘just screw around,’ okay? I’m not you!”

Joey feels the stab of Chandler’s words in his side like a dagger, and he actually has to take a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Y’know, I’ve gone through this whole relationship worrying that I’m one wrong move away from being dumped,” Chandler continues, “because your track record with women leaves a lot to be desired!”

“Well, you know what? That’s bullshit, Chandler, because if you thought I wasn’t serious about us, tellin’ my parents that we’re dating should’a been a huge red flag.”

Chandler looks away, guilty of some unspoken offense.

“Did you really think I was so stupid I’d never figure it out?” Joey asks. “That you’re just stringin’ me along?”

“Joey, no, I’m not—I swear it’s not like that, okay? You have to believe me!”

“Yeah, well, I believed you for nine months, and here we are.” It shouldn’t hurt so much, because Joey saw it coming almost from the moment they stepped into the apartment tonight. But it does hurt. It hurts so much.

Chandler’s got a horrible, lost expression on his face, and Joey almost feels bad that he put it there. No one’s face should be able to do that. “No, no, Joey, please, don’t—don’t do this.” He grabs Joey’s hands in his own, staring at him with intense fervor. “I’m so sorry for being an idiot and making you think I don’t love you, because that is so not how I feel about you, okay? I love you. I always have, and I always will—”

Joey’s heart breaks anew in his chest, because this is the first time Chandler’s ever said that to him, and he can’t even let himself believe it; Chandler’s history of manipulation and lies casts a shadow on every word out of his mouth. Joey just shakes his head and tears his hands out of Chandler’s grasp. “It doesn’t make sense for you to love me. I’ve always known that,” he says, his words a broken mirror of the ones Chandler had once spoken to him. He treads numbly across the floor to his bedroom. “I’ll be outta here by the end of the day tomorrow.”

“W—wait, you’re moving out?” Chandler asks, agony etched on his face.

“Why should I stick around if you don’t respect me? I don’t need that shit from you.”

He shuts the door with a near-silent click before he can catch any glimpse of Chandler’s devastated expression. He can see it well enough in his mind’s eye anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Don't worry, this is tagged 'Happy Ending' for a reason :') )


	21. The One Where Joey Moves Out

**Chapter 21: The One Where Joey Moves Out**

Joey kept his word; he’s gone when Chandler comes home from work the next day. Chandler feels dread sink in his chest at the sight of the half-empty apartment. He reminds himself that Joey can be very dramatic, and this is probably just another one of those times. Odds are that Joey’s hiding over at Ross’s place, waiting for Chandler to call all desperate, but Chandler’s not going to play into that. So he doesn’t panic too much at first. It’s actually sort of nice having the apartment to himself after so long.

He’s panicking a little by the first week of December when Joey hasn’t called or even dropped by Monica and Rachel’s. Yeah, maybe Joey’s angry at him, but Chandler didn’t expect him to shut everyone else out too. He doesn’t know if the girls have seen Joey at Central Perk, and it’s not like he’s going to ask, because that would actually require him to explain why Joey hasn’t been around, and that’s a can of worms Chandler’s not ready to open yet.

It’s things like this, he thinks, that made Joey leave.

But Chandler knows that Joey’s too much of an extrovert to survive very long without social contact. He’s bound to show up eventually, even if he just acts like Chandler’s dead to him.

Chandler starts smoking again by the second week of December, which spurs the others’ concern about what happened with Joey. He fumbles with an answer, gives some half-assed excuse about having a fight and Joey moving out to spend time with his family, because it’s still the holidays and that sort of makes sense. He tells Monica something about Joey being busy with auditions, which isn’t the same thing he’d said when they were at Central Perk a few days ago, and if anyone’s going to dig too deep into this it’s going to be Monica.

He tells himself he’s taking on extra hours at work to keep his mind off of the whole debacle, but a small part of himself really doesn’t want to be alone in that apartment for too long; the absence of Joey is everywhere he looks.

One evening after work, Chandler comes home to a message from Joey on the answering machine. He learns that Joey’s moved into a high-end apartment complex not too far from here. Chandler leaves a pathetically desperate message on voicemail. But Joey doesn’t call him back.

Monica invites him over to her apartment a few days before Christmas, her eyes filled with that pitying look Chandler’s come to know very well over the past few weeks. “I don’t know what your plans are,” she says, “but we’re having a little early Christmas party if you want to come join us.”

Chandler nods. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

He pads across the hall in his pajamas, greeted by Phoebe, Ross, and Rachel when he opens the door. But Joey’s missing, and that cuts him deeper than he expected it would. Rachel sort of winces at the sight of him, though she tries to hide it. He must look worse than he thought.

“Joey left something for you,” Phoebe says, trying to lift Chandler’s spirits. She skips over to the Christmas tree near the window and grabs a small package at its feet. “He wanted to give it to you in person, but you weren’t home.” Phoebe places the tiny box in his hands, and he sits in the vacant spot on the couch. He stares at the box for a moment before tearing off the paper. Monica sits beside him and lays a hand on his shoulder.

Inside the box is a gaudy, ostentatious gold bracelet. Chandler picks it up and turns it around in his fingers to read the engraving on the inside: to my best bud.

Chandler feels the half-hearted tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He wonders if Joey planned on giving him this before their break-up, and if the message still holds true now.

“Ooh, sparkly!” Phoebe squeals, snatching the bracelet out of his hand for a closer look. “‘To my best bud.’Aw, Chandler, that’s so sweet!”

Chandler shrugs, his throat suddenly tight. When he can speak again, he says, “He probably couldn’t return it.” He chuckles dryly and feels the prickle of tears in his eyes. Chandler takes the bracelet back, reaches up to wipe away any trace of tears before they can spill over. “God, I’m such an idiot...”

Monica squeezes his shoulder. “What happened between you two? Is all this refusal to communicate is just macho posturing?”

Chandler chokes out a dry laugh. Macho posturing: yeah, that sounds about right. Chandler usually avoids being honest with himself, but he thinks that most of his fear of announcing his relationship with Joey stems from his fear of admitting that he likes men. It doesn’t feel like it really counts when he’s carrying it on behind closed doors, but when people actually know about it... To Chandler, that’s like admitting that he’s not so different from his father.

But Chandler’s sick of feeling shitty about it now. Joey was the best thing he’s ever had in his life, and he threw it away for, what, his ego? His pride? Well, he’s got those things, and he’s goddamn miserable.

“Joey and I were”—he stumbles over the words—“dating for a while, and he didn’t want to keep it a secret any more.”

Ross is the only one who looks stunned. The girls just look at Chandler, then at each other as if the revelation is old news.   
  
“Dating?” Ross manages. “Like...dating each other?”  
  
Chandler just nods.

Phoebe’s eyes go wide. “Ah! Joey was right!”

“About?”

“He told me a long time ago that he was your secret boyfriend, but I thought he was just kidding!” She laughs. “Aw, you guys.”

Rachel smacks her palm on top of her thigh. “I knew it! I knew you two were hiding something! That’s why Joey asked me all those weird questions!”

“How long were you...” Monica lets the end of that sentence disintegrate.

“About nine months,” Chandler admits.

“That’s like a whole baby!” Phoebe sort of shouts.

Chandler and Monica both answer, “I know!”

Ross is still gathering his thoughts in astonished silence. “You—you and Joey?” Chandler nods grimly. “ _You_...and Joey?” Another nod. “You and _Joey_?”

This is the kind of shit Chandler wanted to avoid. “Can we get past this, please?”

“Okay, I—I get you, but _Joey_?”

Chandler frowns. “Thanks, man.”

“Why did you keep this a secret for so long?” Monica asks him.

“Because I’m an idiot,” Chandler says, dropping his head into his hands. “I was scared and stupid. I didn’t want to...admit it, y’know? I spent my whole life being embarrassed by my dad, and now it’s like...I _am_ him. And the longer I put it off, the bigger it got, until it’s this huge secret I can’t possibly tell anyone ‘cause they’re just gonna make a big deal about it.” He shoves a hand through his hair, twists the strands in his fingers. “And what’s the next step for us? I mean, we already live”—he catches his mistake—“ _lived_ together. So it’s not like we could take our relationship to the next level that way. It’d have to be something way bigger than that, like marriage or children.”

Phoebe’s staring at him in amazement. “Your head must be a scary place.”

“You’re not your dad, honey,” Monica says. “You’re you. Liking other guys...that doesn’t mean you’re some new person now or that you’re just like him.”

Chandler wishes he could make sense out of all the doubts and worries in his head. He doesn’t know how to describe it, to make it so that they understand why this fear has gripped him for so long. “It’s not just that,” he says, because he thinks he’s just going to let that one fester. “If I told you guys, it’d be like—like we’d be an actual couple. And once I started to...feel things that were more than just physical, it scared me even more. It’s like an alarm started going off in my head: ‘Run for your life! Get out of the building!’” There’s a horrible sort of guilt inside of him now; he’s basically admitting to not telling anyone because he liked Joey _too_ much.

Rachel sighs like Chandler has monumentally disappointed her. “God, that’s such a guy thing.”

“So he moved out because you two broke up?” Monica asks.

Chandler shuts his eyes and nods. “He felt like I didn’t respect him. He took me to his parents’ place for Thanksgiving, but I didn’t want to tell them about us.”

The girls wince. “Ooh, yikes.”

“But for me, it felt too much like the Thanksgiving my parents announced their divorce,” he says weakly, like he expects to be punished for admitting it. “I told him we could tell them some other time, but I don’t have the best track record with excuses...”

Silence hangs in the air for what feels like an eternity, but it’s probably only about a couple seconds before Phoebe speaks and breaks it. “We didn’t...like, make you feel you couldn’t tell us, did we?”

Chandler knows that answering that question honestly would be the worst thing he could say. So he just shakes his head and says, “It’s not your fault.”

No one argues with that, although they seem to want to. “Are you gonna call him?” Rachel asks.

“Do you think I should?”

“It’s Joey,” Monica says in disbelief, like the answer is obvious. “You guys are best friends. Don’t you wanna work this out?”

“He’s not—he’s not gonna want to...”

“I think he does,” Ross says. Chandler looks over at him, because Ross has been surprisingly silent for this conversation. “He was invested enough in you guys to break up over not telling us. He’s probably waiting for you to call and try to fix this.”

“He left me a message a couple days ago.” Chandler sighs out a breath. “I tried calling him back, but I ended up getting his machine. I left a message, and he didn’t...” He shrugs into silence.

“What kind of message?”

“Pathetic, needy, desperate, apologetic. All the big ones.”

Monica takes him by the shoulders and forces him to look at her. “Honey, you have to call him and let him know that we know. Once he sees that you’ve taken that step, he’ll want to make this work even more. I promise you: he wants you back, but you have to _try_ , Chandler. You have to show him you’re willing to commit—” Chandler’s eyes go impossibly wide. “To an adult relationship,” Monica stresses. “Honestly, I don’t know what Joey’s told you, but I really, really doubt he’s pressing for babies or marriage. That’s all _your_ weird commitment crap.”

“Yeah,” Ross agrees around a huff of a laugh. “I mean, this is _Joey_. I’m surprised he managed to stay with the same person for nine months.”

Chandler tries a smile, but it’s weak and brief, because part of him doesn’t think Joey did. Moving out was not a snap decision—Joey had probably let his discontent and unhappiness with their relationship build up inside of him for a while, and this argument was merely the final straw. Who’s to say Joey wasn’t seeing other people on the side?

“He still cares about you,” Phoebe adds, showing him the bracelet as proof. “And, y’know, maybe you won’t go back to being boyfriends, but you can still be friends!”

She’s trying to be helpful, but it just hurts. Because Chandler remembers the advice he’d given Joey and Ross, about how they shouldn’t confess to their crush unless they were certain they could remain friends in the event of rejection. How ironic that he would be the one to cower in the face of his own advice.

Later that night, Chandler goes across the hall to his apartment, feels the empty space there in his bones. He toys with the gold bracelet around his wrist for a moment before picking up the phone. He waits through the rings with a nervous dread twisting in his gut. He’s throwing caution to the wind and leaving an impromptu message. Or having an impromptu conversation if Joey answers the phone. This is big for him; Chandler rarely leaves spontaneous messages.

He breathes out a long, slow exhale, and when the machine picks up, he says: “Hey, Joe, it’s—it’s me. I just wanted to thank you, y’know, for the bracelet. That was—that was really nice of you. I wish I could’ve done something for you, but I didn’t know...” Shit, this is not going well. He hasn’t even mentioned the actual reason for the phone call yet. He swallows hard, panic choked in his throat. “Oh, oh, by the way, uh, I—I told them about, y’know, about us,” he says, trying to sound casual. “You were right, Joe.” He sighs. “God, I’m so sorry. This whole break-up thing... I just—I need you. I need you to want this as much as I do, Joe, okay? I’m sorry this isn’t...” He trails off, starts over. “I’m trying. I really am. So just—let’s talk it over, okay?”

#

Ross shows up at Joey’s new apartment the day after Christmas. It’s a rare occasion that his friends stop by this place; usually they catch him at Central Perk instead of coming here. Joey wonders why. It must be hard for them to see Joey and Chandler living two separate lives instead of being blissfully entangled. Maybe this is what Chandler meant about dating all of them, that the repercussions of a break-up would ripple outwards like a nuclear blast.

Ross gives him an awkward half-smile at the door. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Joey lets him inside, curious as to the reason for his visit. “Everything okay?”

“No, actually. That’s—that’s what I came to talk to you about.”

“Did somethin’ happen to Monica?” Ross shakes his head, starts to say something, but Joey cuts him off when another thought pops into his head. “Phoebe?”

“Chandler.”

Joey actually gasps out loud as a piercing pain rises up in his chest. “Oh no...” He couldn’t— _wouldn’t_... Would he?

Ross furrows his brow for a moment, confused, then his eyes go wide and he’s flailing in a panic that reminds Joey way too much of Chandler. “Oh, no! Oh God, no! That’s not—No! I just think you should talk to him!”

Joey lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and drops down into the recliner. It feels strange—lonely, even—without the other chair beside him. “Dammit, Ross, why’d you have to—” He pushes a hand through his hair. “That was just evil, okay?”

“Not on purpose!” Ross whines. “Look, Joey, for what it’s worth, Chandler told us the truth. He told us about you two. Don’t you think you could at least hear the guy out? Maybe you don’t have to jump back into dating, but...you could still be friends, right?”

Joey fixes him with a heavy stare. “What if it was you and Rachel? Could you go back to bein’ friends like nothin’ happened?”

Ross thinks about it, but he doesn’t answer. “Chandler’s your best friend.”

“He _was_. Why’re you pushin’ so hard for him anyway? With him out of the way as my best friend, there’s a spot open.”

“Oh.” Ross blinks. “Who, me?” Joey gives him a look. “Wow, I’m honored! And y’know what I’m gonna do as my first act as your best friend?”

“What?” Joey really hopes it’s sandwich-related.

“I’m gonna get you to talk to Chandler.”

Joey sighs, his entire body getting into it. “Look, Ross, I’m sorry, but it’s just too complicated, alright? Look what it took just to get him to tell you guys! This was just a big mistake.”

Ross watches him for a moment before he says, “I saw the look on your face when you thought he was dead. You still have...feelings for him.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I do, but I gotta let it be. He broke my heart. I never felt that before. Now I get all those songs!” This is an entirely new realm of emotion for Joey, and he hates it. He wants things back the way they were, when he’d wake up with Chandler cuddled close and kiss his shoulder or the back of his neck. Instead, he wakes up alone.

Ross gives a small shrug, his eyes sad. “Well, I’m sorry. I tried. But I trust your judgement.”

Joey listens as Ross’s footsteps move toward the door. He stares at the floor, his eyes unseeing for a moment, before he speaks again. “Hey, Ross?”

“Yeah?”

He wets his lips. “If you and Rachel broke up for good, and you got a job where you’d never have to see her again, would you take it to save yourself the heartache?”  
  
Ross looks almost wounded at that. “No. No, I couldn’t.”

Ross was always the weakest one.

#

A few days later, Chandler gets a phone call. He practically jumps over the top of the recliner in a scramble to answer the phone. “Joe?”

“Hey, Chandler.”

He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear Joey’s voice again until just now. In an instant, he feels whole again. “Did you, uh, did you get my message?”

“Yeah, I did... Thanks. I’m glad you told them.” Chandler can hear the faint smile in Joey’s voice, but there’s something off about it, as if Joey’s bracing him for something. Like a doctor informing a patient that he’s about to die. “But, uh—”

Chandler’s heart clenches in his chest. “No! No buts! Please. We can work through this, whatever it is.”

Joey gives a drag of a sigh; Chandler can picture the way he’s pushing his hand through his hair or rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think we can.”

Chandler doesn’t feel the sting of tears until he hears the way his voice is wrecked when he speaks: “No, no, don’t—don’t say that. Look, it’s not easy for me, but I’m trying. I’m trying the best I can.”

“I know you are, Chandler, and I appreciate it so much, but...” Joey sighs again, goes silent for a moment. Chandler has to remind himself to breathe. Joey’s got some excitement to his voice when he starts talking again: “A couple weeks ago, I tried out for this part for this new TV show. I’m up for the part of Mac Macavelli—or Mac. I’m a detective and I solve crimes with the help of my robot partner. He’s a—he’s a Computerized Humanoid Electronically Enhanced Secret Enforcer...or ‘C.H.E.E.S.E.’”

“So...Mac and Cheese?”

“Yeah! That’s the title! Y’know, they really lucked out that the initials spell ‘cheese.’”

Chandler smiles despite himself. God, he’s missed this. “That _is_ lucky. So, how’d it go?”

The exuberance in Joey’s voice begins to fade. “Oh, it went great! I—I got the part!”

“Congratulations!” Chandler picks up on the way Joey’s dancing around the subject. “Wait, what’s the catch? You didn’t have to sleep with someone to get it, did you?” He chuckles weakly.

“No, nothin’ like that.”

“Then why do you sound so sad? Is it—is it a time thing?” Of course it is, Chandler thinks. Joey’s just unsure if his new job will leave him much time to spend with Chandler to mend their relationship. He’s relieved, in a way, because they can work through this, they can—

“No, it’s more of a...distance thing.”

Chandler feels his mouth go dry.

“See, the show’s filmed in L.A.... Y’know, the one in California.”

“I guess the local one was all booked up.” Chandler’s knees go weak, and he steadies himself against the kitchen counter. “So, uh, so I guess you’re gonna move there, right?”

“I dunno... I mean, if I go, I’d get to be the star of my own TV series, y’know? It’s not as big as _Days of Our Lives_ , but it could be! But... I’d have to leave you and Pheebs and Ross and Monica and Rachel... I love you guys. You’re like my family.”

Chandler curls his free hand around the back of his neck. Awareness begins to spread like a trickle of acid through his veins. “Have you told them yet?”

“No, I haven’t told anybody. Just you. I don’t wanna say anything ‘til I’m sure.”

Chandler hears the subtext there: Joey wants him to help make this decision, and he trusts Chandler enough to guide him in the right direction. Every synapse in his brain is screaming for Chandler to be selfish here, because they’re talking again and he’s getting a chance to fix what he’s broken. But he knows that this is an incredible opportunity for Joey. To take that away just so he doesn’t have to lose him would be the most selfish thing Chandler could do.

What feels like an eternity of silence passes by, but it’s probably only a couple of seconds. “I think you should go,” Chandler finally says, his voice a whisper.

“Really?” Joey sounds stunned and maybe a little scared. “You do?”

“Yeah, it’s—it’s what you want, isn’t it? Your own TV show: that’s big! They don’t give those to just anybody.” His voice sort of cracks off at the end, so he stops talking.

Joey tries a chuckle. “Thanks, Chandler. I guess I just needed to hear it from you.” Chandler squeezes his eyes shut, feels the steady trickle of tears. “You guys are gonna come visit me, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” It’s painful the way Joey says things without saying them at all, the way he just _knows_ Chandler isn’t going to fix this. Joey might be daft sometimes, but he’s not stupid enough to even entertain the idea that Chandler might come with him. That unspoken certainty hurts more than any cruel words he could have chosen.

“Hey, listen, I gotta go, but I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Good night, Joe.”

“Goodbye, Chandler.”

Chandler feels a dragging, tearing sense of loss as he hangs up the phone. He stares at the counter until he can’t see anymore, then he feels the tile beneath his knees. His head swirls dizzily with all the ways he’s hurt Joey, every off-handed comment and manipulation, each mistake he’s made. The pain knocks him breathless, even as he’s curled against the bar and choking out weak sobs.

What feels like a long stretch of time passes by this way before someone’s knocking on the door. Chandler scrambles for some semblance of composure, wipes his tears away with the too-long sleeves of his sweatshirt. It takes him a moment to get to his feet and ascertain that his voice won’t betray him when he answers.

Monica’s at the door, her grey t-shirt covered in a powdery substance that looks like flour. “We’re out of milk. Can I use—” Her eyes go wide and anxious when she gets a good look at him. “Oh my God, Chandler, are you okay? Did something happen?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m fine. Joey and I just...had to talk about some things that were hard.” He swallows, struggling to keep his voice from breaking under the lie. “We’ll be okay.”

She curls a hand around his arm. Chandler fights for control over the swell in his throat and the wetness in his eyes, “Oh, honey...”

“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing.”

“You don’t have the best luck with holidays, do you?” she says, trying humor.

Chandler manages a smile. “So, what’re you making?”

Her words pull the thread that unravels him: “Mac and cheese.” And that’s what sends it all toppling down, his reserve of inner strength dropping out from under him. He starts laughing, because it’s so goddamn ridiculous, and he pulls her into a hug that’s too tight, like he might lose himself if he lets go. He’s laughing and crying into her hair, his hands curled into fists behind her back. Monica hugs him back.

Then he’s just crying.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will be the last one. :)


	22. The Last One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I hope this chapter was worth the wait!)

**Chapter 22: The Last One**

Chandler resurfaces after the New Year’s festivities have passed. He finds Phoebe tuning her guitar at Central Perk. “Pheebs.”

“Chandler.” She’s giving him that tight-lipped, “sorry for your loss” smile he’s become very familiar with lately. “I guess you heard about Joey.”

He nods solemnly.

“So what’re you gonna do?”

Is there anything else _to_ do other than the right thing? “I’m gonna support him. Let him go.”

Phoebe stares at him with wide, sad eyes. “You’re not going with him?”

Chandler struggles for an answer; part of him wants to go, but moving across the country is a huge step for someone who took nine months to admit he was in a relationship.

“Have you even thought about it?”

“Until just now? No.”

Phoebe makes an exasperated noise. “Chandler, this is your chance! You have to go with him!”

“Do you—do you think I could?”

“Yes! Yes! And—oh, oh my God”—she grips his arm in sudden realization—“his birthday’s coming up! We’re throwing him a party ‘cause he’s leaving for L.A. next week, so it’s like a going-away party _and_ a birthday party! And you could be his present!”

The very idea of all this is frightening—in a good and bad way—and makes his stomach twist into knots and something ball up in his throat. “Do you really think he would want me there?”

“Of course! He’s your lobster!”

“He didn’t seem like he wanted me to go...” Chandler says after a beat.

“Did you ever think maybe he was scared of asking you to come and hearing you say no? I mean, that’s like telling someone you love them and they don’t say it back.”

That one cleaves through Chandler’s guilty heart, because when Joey first said he loved him Chandler didn’t say it back. And the only time Chandler ever said those words to him was in the heat of an argument where it could be misconstrued as ammo.

Phoebe notices the palpable distress on his face. She sets her guitar down and moves so her whole body’s facing him. “How hard would it be to just go with him and live in L.A. like a big-shot movie star?”

Chandler thinks for a moment and picks out the first hurdle to this tempting offer: “Well, I’d have to...move.”

“We can help you! You know Monica would go crazy over helping you pack! Organizing, cleaning—that’s like sex to her!”

“My job _does_ have an office there...” It’s like he can sense that his apprehension is fading, and he has to push at the edges a bit.

“Okay, see? This was meant to be!”

“But—but—but!” Chandler panics, because he’s already putting too much thought into this. This is ridiculous—isn’t it? If Joey wanted to be with him that badly, wouldn’t he have fought a little harder?

“Why not?” Phoebe asks, completely serious. “How is it any different than Rachel running out on Barry? Or Ross finally asking her out? Or even you and Joey getting together?”

Chandler wants to respond with something like “because it just is,” but gathers his thoughts with a marginal amount of coherence. “Pheebs, this is totally crazy. I can’t—I can’t just move all the way across the country like that! I mean, this is something people plan for! You don’t just...do it!”

“You can’t just sit around and plan things, Chandler, or you’re gonna miss out on something really wonderful.”

Chandler thinks that his entire relationship with Joey has its foundations in blind leaps of faith: asking Joey to kiss him again, their whole fooling-around period, going to the resort, blurting out all the embarrassing things he’d said while drunk... Even gaining Joey as a roommate wasn’t part of Chandler’s plan.

Maybe that’s just the disjointed, clumsy way they work together: spur-of-the-moment decisions that feel right. Maybe this is one of those pivotal moments where Chandler can choose to throw caution into the wind and go with his gut feeling. A chance to fix what he’s broken. A chance to prove to Joey that he loves him, no matter the cost.

_Hey, man, if you wanna make it happen, you gotta be a man and lay it all down. Do what you told me! Do something nice, a big gesture to get her attention! C’mon, quit being a wuss!_

Chandler laughs to himself; he never expected his advice to Ross would ever work—now it’s Ross’ turn to give him the confidence he needs to commit wholeheartedly to this.

#

  
Almost a week later, the girls and Ross throw Joey a going-away/birthday party at his apartment. All Joey can see is that Chandler isn’t here. It shouldn’t hurt so much, but it does, because Chandler ignores awkward, uncomfortable situations as much as he can, and goodbyes definitely fall into that category. If Joey had known the last time he talked to Chandler was actually the _last time_ , he would have said more. He would have suggested that Chandler come with him, felt the sting of rejection like the lash of a whip.

Joey gets that Chandler has issues with intimacy and commitment and relationships, but Chandler didn’t even call once and leave a drunken, sob-riddled message begging him to stay in New York. So on top of not being asked to stay, Joey also doesn’t seem to be getting a goodbye.

All he wants is some sort of proof that Chandler actually gives a shit about him in a way that makes their nine-month relationship more than just a really convenient fling. Because that’s the impression Joey’s getting here.

He finds Phoebe in the corner with a few packed-up boxes and the porcelain dog statue. She’s stroking the nape of its neck affectionately when Joey sidles up beside her. “Pheebs, you know that’s not a real dog, right?”

“I might be a little wasted right now.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He plucks the glass from her hand, downs the rest of the drink. Phoebe sniffles and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Aw, Pheebs, I’m sorry, let me get you another drink—”

“No, no, Joey, I’m just gonna miss you so much.” She hugs him close, and he wraps his arms around her. He buries his nose in her hair, tries to keep the waterworks at bay. He holds her a little tighter, and that’s when Phoebe pulls away and wipes her eyes again. “I’m sorry, I promised myself I wasn’t gonna do this.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs, kissing her forehead. “I’d be sad too if you were leavin’.” He rubs circles on her back until her tears have dried. Joey glances over at the door—still nothing. “Have you heard anything from Chandler?”

“No.”

Joey doesn’t even bother hiding his disappointment at that.

She pats his arm. “You’re still each other’s lobsters.”

Usually Joey and Phoebe are on the same wavelength, but this time he’s completely lost. “What?”

“Oh, you weren’t there for that,” Phoebe realizes. “It’s what we call Ross and Rachel: the lobsters. ‘Cause lobsters fall in love and mate for life.”

“He doesn’t love me,” Joey says numbly. It actually hurts a little when he hears it out loud.

Phoebe gives him a knowing smile. “Trust me, he does.”

“Then how come he’s not here?”

Phoebe shrugs and looks away for a moment. “He had a thing with—with the thing.” Joey stares at her, totally out of his depth. “He probably got caught up at work. He’ll be here.”

He has a feeling that she knows Chandler isn’t coming but doesn’t actually want to tell him. Joey makes a frustrated noise and wanders off for a drink. Instead he finds Monica, whose eyes are red and wet as she pours herself a drink at the table. “Have you heard from Chandler?” he asks.

Monica shakes her head. “Not yet.”

“You think he’s comin’?”

“You _don’t_?”

Joey doesn’t have an answer for that beyond “because he’s a jerk,” and he knows in his heart that’s not true. He wouldn’t have dated a jerk for nine months, wouldn’t have dreamed about spending the rest of his life with a jerk. So he just settles for, “Maybe it’s too hard for him.” Monica’s gaze grows sadder, and Joey says, “I don’t understand why he didn’t ask me to stay, Mon. Why didn’t he fight for me?”

Monica’s hands fall to her sides as she stares at him in awe. “Joey, how could you live with Chandler for two years and not know one thing about him? Chandler has always supported your career! This is a huge step for you! Of course he’s gonna tell you to do it; he loves you!”

It should make sense, but Joey still can’t wrap his head around it. It’s not like Chandler ever once said those three words to him during their entire relationship—and, no, their last argument doesn’t count, because Chandler used it as a bargaining chip rather than an untethered, genuine declaration of love.

“When you had the audition for _Days of Our Lives_ , did Chandler support you?”

He nods. “Yeah, he told me to go for it, even if I had to sleep with the casting director to get it.”

Monica looks at him in shock. “He did?”

“Yeah, I was pretty surprised about that too. He was actually sorta encouragin’ me to—” Joey stops, because how the fuck did he not see this coming? Chandler didn’t actually want Joey to sleep with the casting director for the role, but he encouraged him anyway because he knew the part would make Joey happy. Chandler wouldn’t tell Joey how he felt because he thought the confession would make Joey uncomfortable. It’s like he’s always swallowed down his own happiness in lieu of what’s best—or at least what he thinks is best—for Joey.

So why should this time be any different?

Joey laughs to himself, kisses Monica on the cheek. “Thanks, Mon.”

Monica smiles at him in a way that’s confused. “You’re welcome?”  
  
After the other guests have left, Rachel’s crying into Joey’s chest and staining his shirt with tears when Chandler stumbles in, sucking air. “Oh, good, Joe, you’re still here! I’m sorry I’m late. I had a bunch of last-minute stuff at work and—”

Joey pulls Chandler into his arms, and the familiar scent of his hair hits Joey like a wrecking ball. He gets his fingers full of fabric and lets his hands tighten into fists over Chandler’s back. “If you wanted me to stay, why didn’t you just tell me, man?”

“Y—you’re staying?” Chandler asks in a small voice. “But I thought you wanted to go! Why are you—”

“Aw, c’mon, Chandler, I’ll get other roles! Besides, bein’ with you makes me happier than bein’ on TV.”

Chandler goes stiff in his arms. Joey’s about to kiss his unyielding mouth, but apparently this is Chandler’s breaking point, because he actually puts his hands over Joey’s chest and shoves him away. “Oh my God!” Chandler shouts, his mouth hanging open. “Are you kidding me?”

Apparently Joey’s miscalculated—badly. “What? What’s wrong? I thought you wanted me to stay so we could—”

“No! No, I didn’t want you to stay! I was trying to do the mature, adult thing! Being selfish is how I screwed this up to begin with!” Chandler’s doing that whole-body angry flailing thing he’s so good at. “I want you to—I want you to be happy!” It sounds fucking awful when he says it like that, like he’s not even part of the equation of Joey’s happiness. “Take the job if you want it, Joe. Don’t hang back on account of me.”

Joey shakes his head. “Chandler, you always do this. You always put me bein’ happy before you. Why can’t we both be happy by stayin’ here?”

“Because I’m going with you, you idiot!”

Joey’s jaw drops, and he stares at Chandler with incredulity.

Going with him? Joey can’t even let himself think about the concept. It’s impossible.

“You wanna know why I was late?” Chandler continues, his furious blue eyes pinning Joey in place. “Not because I don’t care about you, or because I didn’t want to say goodbye, but because I was at work making sure I’d get transferred to the office in L.A. so you and I could be together and start over!”

Joey’s gaping at him in awe. This is Chandler, Mr. Anti-Commitment. Chandler can barely commit to choosing a restaurant when they go out, but he’s willing to uproot himself from his friends and his job just to be with Joey?

“And I did _not_ spend this entire week getting my stuff packed up with Monica and Phoebe and Rachel and Ross just so that you’d back out and decide to stay, because”—Chandler’s lower lip quivers like he’s going to start crying—“because if you stay, I don’t know what else I can do”—he’s officially crying now, his words sounding broken and desperate—“to show you that I want to make this work. I am so in love with you, Joey, and I can’t—” He’s cut off by a sob, and he wipes away the tears rolling down his cheeks.

“You love me,” Joey says through unmoving lips, and it’s half a question and half a realization.

Chandler nods, and his voice is still shaky with emotion when he says, “You make me happier than I ever thought I could be.”

Joey’s thoughts are all a jumble. “Is this another one of your jokes? ‘Cause it’s not funny.”

“No, no!” Chandler reaches for him, pulls him closer. “Joey, I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you. Just—please, let me try, okay?”

Joey just stares at him, shell-shocked, before lifting a hand to Chandler’s face and letting his palm curve around his cheek. He’s still trying to fit this into his world view, because Chandler has flagrantly avoided all types of commitment for the past year, but all of a sudden he’s willing to move across the country. “Why didn’t you tell me you were comin’ with me?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Chandler admits, chagrined. “Y’know, for your birthday.”

“Well, it worked!”

Chandler gazes at him with agonized eyes. “Look, I—I promise I’ll try to be better, okay? I know you don’t believe me, but I want to do this. I can be better because you’ll make me better.” His hands tighten into fists in Joey’s shirt. “Just—please—tell me that you can still love me.”

“I never stopped,” Joey says before pushing his mouth over Chandler’s. Chandler kisses him back, drags him in, his greedy hands pulling Joey closer and grabbing his hair. Joey’s whispering “I love you” over and over in the short moments when his lips are free before Chandler drags him back and captures his mouth again, messy and wet and _real_.

The girls “awww” in unison, and Ross tries to join in the recognition of the moment, but it’s forced and uncomfortable. Rachel gives him a look. Ross fidgets and mumbles, “Okay, I’ll stop.”

Joey’s grinning when they break apart, his arms linked around Chandler’s waist. “He’s comin’ with me!” he gloats to the others, ecstatic, before the bittersweet expressions on everyone’s faces sink in. They’re not just saying goodbye to Joey here; they’re saying goodbye to Chandler too. “Oh.”

“What? What’s wrong? Did you change your mind again?” Chandler panics.

Joey shakes his head. “I’m not the only one who’s leavin’,” he says quietly.

Chandler’s face goes solemn for a moment. “Ah, c’mon, give ‘em some credit; they can make it without us.”

Joey smiles despite his sadness; he knows that they can.

#

Rachel, Monica, Ross, and Phoebe say their tearful goodbyes and promise to see Joey and Chandler off at the airport the next day. Chandler gets the grand tour of Joey’s apartment, which isn’t very grand considering nearly all of his possessions are packed away in boxes. But the fold-out couch is sitting in the middle of the living room, and they end up sprawled over it that night after dinner. Chandler’s lying on top of him, his cheek against the warm skin of Joey’s chest, listening to the quiet thrum of his heartbeat. Joey sighs contentment into Chandler’s hair, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other tracing the curve of his spine.

“That didn’t go the way I planned it,” Joey says quietly around a chuckle.

“What’d’ya mean?”

“Well, I was kinda hopin’ if we got back together”—Chandler closes his eyes, feels his heart break because even Joey wasn’t sure they’d find their way back to each other—“that I could, y’know, be on top.”

“Gimme a minute, and we can go again.”

“It’s too late. The moment’s ruined.” Joey pouts. “I had this big thing planned out in my head where I was gonna take it slow, kiss you all over, sorta like our first time.” Chandler smiles despite himself. “But no, you just had to climb on and take over.” Joey’s trying to sound put out about this, but Chandler is completely certain that Joey really doesn’t mind that much at all.

“Well, Joe, a wise philosopher once said if you sit around and plan things you miss out on something better.” Joey pushes his fingers through Chandler’s hair. “Actually, it was Phoebe, but the point still stands. And, hey, if you wanna do all that stuff anyway, I am all for it. I know the moment’s passed, but I’d still enjoy it.” Chandler gives Joey his best “look how cute I am” smile. It works, because Joey grins back and crushes his mouth over Chandler’s.

Joey’s always had an insistent edge to his kissing, but now his hand shifts carefully through Chandler’s hair, like pushing too much might break him or split them apart again. His mouth moves soft and slow, as if they have all the time in the world to reconnect here; Chandler really wishes they did, because he has so much to apologize for that he doesn’t think sex can fix. “Hey, Joe?” he murmurs a little while later, his fingers tracing the line of Joey’s collarbone.

Joey hums a sound that urges Chandler to continue.

“Are your parents gonna meet us at the airport tomorrow?”

“Yeah, they said they’d be there.”

Chandler tips his head so his cheek lies flat over Joey’s chest. “Maybe you could tell ‘em, y’know, about us?”

Joey springs up to a sit, staring down at Chandler in a way he’s going to interpret as stunned. “Really? You mean it?”

Chandler keeps his gaze averted, shy under Joey’s fervent eyes, and sits in Joey’s lap. “Yeah! I mean, you don’t have to make a big deal of it or anything, but I think they ought’a know.” Joey runs his fingertips over Chandler’s knees. “I know it’s kind of last minute, but...” Chandler shrugs. “At least if they don’t take it well we won’t have to stick around.” He forces up a hopeful half-smile.

“So you’re not scared anymore?”

Chandler looks away for a moment. “Losing you...put a lot of things in perspective.”

Joey kisses him, his hands gentle against the curve of Chandler’s face and the edges of his fingers pressing into bone and muscle. He licks into Chandler’s mouth, and Chandler moans, gets his hands full of Joey’s hair. He’s so fucking _glad_ that this didn’t break them, that Joey still loves him and wants him here. They kiss like they’re trying to catch up with where they should be, making up for time lost to distance. Joey’s mouth is wet and hungry over Chandler’s own, and the frantic passion makes Chandler a little dizzy in the best of ways.

Joey pulls back, wets his lips, and looks at Chandler like he’s something to eat; Chandler burns under the heat of Joey’s gaze. “Why don’t you do something else with that mouth of yours?” he teases, touching his fingers to Joey’s lips.

Joey chuckles and slides a hand down the curve of Chandler’s spine. “No way, Bing. I told ya: I got plans for you tonight.”

Chandler feels his cheeks flush when Joey squeezes his ass. “Remember what I told you about planning?” he says with a grin before nudging Joey’s back against the couch cushions.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know~ :))


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